


The Life of the Signless

by MsWikit



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 60,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsWikit/pseuds/MsWikit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One act of compassion changes the course of Alternia's history. A grub is plucked from the caverns and carried to the world, where he is raised by a watchful custodian and a ragtag band of feral trolls. This work chronicles his origins, the entirety of his life, and his eventual death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hatching Caverns

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I've been wanting to do since I got into Homestuck, and the gigapause has provided me with the perfect opportunity to buckle down and do it. Hope you guys enjoy!

The cavern floor was moving. It was a writhing, thrashing rainbow of young trolls. A brood of hundreds of thousands of eggs had just hatched, and the grubs were exploring their new (though limited) world. Their squeals, clicks, and shrieks reverberated off the walls and turned five hundred thousand grubs into five hundred million.

Porrim did not mind the activity. The caverns were typically enveloped in a hushed silence. The other handmaids rarely spoke. Most of them were old, and performed their duties deftly and quietly. According to them, noise upset the Mother Grub. That was why, shortly after a brood was laid, all the eggs were moved into hatching caverns. Every other part of the caverns was shrouded in silence. Attempting to start conversation earned you little more than a dirty look. After a sweep underground, she had learned that it was better to find other ways to occupy herself. She had taken to sewing her own clothes, though material was often hard to come by. Some nights she had to simply sit and endure the silence when all she wanted to do was scream. Scream and scream and scream, so that everyone in Alternia could hear her.

The hatching caverns were thus a welcome change. The chaos, the ear-splitting noise...it was heaven to her. Though it was a brief relief from the monotony. Her errand – to deliver the list of needed supplies – was a short one. Soon she would be back at her station, performing her duties in deft silence...scrubbing down the Mother Grub's engorged stomach, feeding her, supplying her with genetic material, all the things she had been doing every night for the past sweep. 

A grub scuttled across her foot, squealing loudly. They were all in a mad dash to find food. Anything and everything could be a meal for a grub. Egg shells, mites, small creatures that roamed the cavern floor, and unhatched eggs would all be suitable for a newly hatched wriggler. But competition was fierce. Those who didn't eat, didn't survive. 

Porrim smiled slightly, lightly stepping around the grubs. None of them seemed to notice her. They all were wrapped up in their own simplistic worlds. The only things that concerned them were how to move their legs, how to find food, how to survive in this new world. What a thrill it would be to only be focused on such simple things. They had no responsibilities, no duties. The only thing they had to concern themselves with was surviving until pupation. Which, for a grub, is quite the feat. But to her it seemed blissfully simple. 

A loud squeal interrupted her thoughts. She looked down and found that, in her inattention, she had almost stepped on a grub. Porrim glanced down to step around it, only to almost fall over from shock.

The grub curled up at her feet was the brightest red she had ever seen. Not burgundy, not maroon, but red. He stared up at her indignantly, apparently irritated his nap had been disturbed. His face was dusted with freckles, and his horns were short and rounded. But all Porrim could focus on was his color. Was it possible for a grub to be that color? Were her eyes playing tricks on her? 

Without realizing what she was doing, Porrim reached down and picked up the grub. He let out an angry squeal and attempted to bite her hand. But all she was concerned with was his coloring. 

Bright red. Candy red. 

“You're a mutant, aren't you?” Porrim whispered. During her time underground, she had seen only a handful of mutants. They were exceedingly rare, and most of them didn't last long. Sometimes you found them curled up in the corner, withered and still, already gone. Other times they could be seen in the crowd, trying desperately to survive. The other handmaidens often recommended that the ones found alive should be killed. 

_It's more merciful that way_ , Porrim thought, carrying the grub over to the wall. It would be quick. She would dash his head against the wall, and it would be over. No suffering. No fear. If this mutant somehow managed to survive, he would die in the caverns after emerging from pupation. There would be no lusus to take him. No comforting abomination to choose him, shelter him...he'd starve in the caverns, long after all the other surviving wrigglers had ascended with their custodians. 

She reached the cavern wall. There were already a few dead grubs there. How did they all automatically know to crawl off to the sides, rather than die in the horde? Why did they all choose to die alone against the stone wall? Porrim couldn't guess. Water dripped down on to her head, and on to the grub's. He squealed shrilly and tucked his face against her breast, seeking shelter. 

“It's just water,” she said softly. “It won't bother you in a moment.”

It had to be done now. Nice and quick. A simple act of mercy. Porrim detached him from her bosom, holding him easily in one hand. She couldn't hold back. If she did, she'd merely hurt the grub. His pained screams would echo through the cavern, and she would be haunted by them each time she slept. She found a spot on the wall and focused on it. 

_Quick and easy._

The grub whined as another droplet of water landed on his head. 

_One..._

_Tw-_

The grub let out a squeal, and sank his small sharp teeth into her finger. 

Porrim frowned, wrenching her finger free from his mouth. A hint of dark green blood could be seen where his teeth had broken her skin. Impressive, for a grub. So he had a little bit of fight in him. 

Perhaps just enough.

“See what you did?” Porrim said, showing him her finger. “You drew blood.”

He stared at her finger, then licked it. She laughed. The little one looked back at her, cocking his head to one side. For a moment he looked confused. Then he cooed at her and mimicked her smile. It made her chuckle again. In the back of her mind, it occurred to her that she had just witnessed his first smile. Perhaps, she thought, she could bring about his first laugh as well. Porrim cradled him close and tickled his belly. The grub squealed, wiggling his legs and smiling.

“You're much cuter when you smile, you know,” Porrim said, looking into his candy red eyes. The color didn't seem quite so shocking now. It was something she could get used to. “You should do that more often.”

The grub cooed in response. 

She wasn't sure how long she stood there, crooning over him. Slowly he began to fall asleep in her arms. His eyes drifted shut, and his head rested comfortably against her breast. It hit her suddenly that she couldn't just kill this grub. She couldn't let him die. 

But what was she supposed to do? No lusus would take him. It wasn't as if she could raise him herself-

...or could she?

The idea hit her like a bolt of lightning. It was completely unheard of. Unnatural. And yet...and yet, she knew it was his only chance. She was his only chance of survival. And he was her reason to leave the caverns. Deep in her heart, she hated it here. As a young troll, Porrim had a hive out in the desert. It had been beautiful. Every day she would throw open the windows to let the sun shine on her skin and stare at the bright blue sky. Then, when she came of age, she was forced to live and work in the dark, damp underground caverns of Alternia.

Well, no more. She was escaping. And she was escaping with her candy red grub.

*

The exit she found deposited them in the middle of a desert. Rolling dunes surrounded them on all sides. An impossibly bright star hung directly overhead. The air was crisp and fresh. A soft breeze was blowing. Porrim closed her eyes to take it in. For the first time in a sweep, she was on the surface. She could feel the wind, see the sky, do as she pleased. It was exhilarating. 

“We're free now, little one,” Porrim murmured, cradling the grub with both arms. She began to walk across the dunes. At first her feet felt unsteady on the sand. They were so used to the hard stone floor of the cavern, that the desert felt unstable and unfamiliar. But she quickly remembered how to carry herself. Her hive had been located in the middle of a desert after all. Most of her time as a wriggler was spent rolling down sand hills and giggling, all while underneath the watchful eye of her lusus. Being back among the dry, dusty dunes was like coming home.

They traveled through the night and into the day. Porrim was careful to shield the grub – her grub, as she now thought of him – from the harsh rays of the sun. She'd stolen a few night's provisions upon their escape, but they wouldn't last them long. Growing grubs ate nonstop. He cried for food constantly, and when he received it it vanished almost instantaneously. And though she attempted to ration everything carefully, their supplies were depleted seven nights after their escape. By that point the desert had slowly begun to change. Dry grass and trees sporadically dotted the dunes. The dunes began to give away to hot, flat stretches of land. These, at least, occasionally offered shade and water. At ten days, Porrim began to fear her grub was dying. He'd stopped screaming for food, and instead seemed to crumble into himself. There was no light in his candy red eyes. All he wanted to do was sleep, and that alarmed her.

Porrim found a cluster of cacti on the twelfth night of their journey. She harvested the fruit and fed almost all of it to her grub. It seemed to rejuvenate him, and he cooed happily all through the night. 

Their journey continued on for another four nights. At that point, both she and her grub were starting to weaken. The tiny oasises of water and cactus fruit were gone. It was freezing at night, and too hot to move during the day. Porrim was beginning to think they would both die among the dry grass and rocks. 

Until, on the sixteenth night, something short of a miracle occurred.

As night fell and Porrim began to contemplate giving up, she saw something in the distance. A fire. Multiple fires. She could see shadows moving and tents being erected. Voices floated towards her through the still night air.

_Feral trolls_ , Porrim thought. There were small groups of them all across Alternia. They were considered pests by some, dangerous by others. Horrible, nasty stories circulated around ferals. They killed without discrimination, they practiced cannibalism regularly, many of them were dangerous criminals and runaway slaves. All of them were unpredictable and dangerous, and should be killed on sight. All of these she contemplated as she stared at the burning fires.

In her arms, her grub let out a pitiful whimper. 

Without a second thought, she ran towards the camp.

*

No one saw her approaching. It was only when she stepped into the light of the fire was she noticed. The trolls wasted no time. Someone grabbed her by the horns and threw her on to the ground. Her grub went flying from her arms and landed near the fire. There was a whirlwind of yelling and weapons being drawn. Eyes of every color and hue glared at her from all sides. Someone pressed a blade to the back of her neck.

A momentary silence fell. Her grub began to cry.

All heads snapped towards the sound, including Porrim's. She reached one hand out towards him, but couldn't reach. A few gasps and murmurs ran through the group. Someone leaned down and picked him up, holding him easily with one hand.

“DON'T HURT HIM!” Porrim screamed.

The attention turned back towards her. She kept her eyes on her little one. He was crying still, screaming to be held. “Please. Please, just don't hurt him.”

“Let her up,” someone said gruffly. “I'm sure she won't be any trouble so long as Tempis has a hold on that one.”

Slowly, the feral trolls backed off. But they kept their weapons drawn and their eyes narrowed at Porrim. The troll who had spoken walked forward. He wasn't old, but he wasn't incredibly young either. One of his legs seemed to have some sort of deformity, and he walked with the aid of a wooden cane. The others moved aside for him and bowed their heads respectfully. 

“Who are you?” the troll demanded.

“Porrim Maryam,” Porrim answered. 

“Why, may I ask, do you have a grub with you?” He frowned at her and leaned on his cane. Porrim stared up into his eyes. It was difficult to tell, but she thought his eyes were dark brown. There was an ugly scar just underneath his right eye, and the tip of one of his horns had been broken off. “Lady, it'd be in your best interest to answer my questions when I ask 'em. Understand?”

“I rescued him,” Porrim answered quietly. “From the caverns.”

The trolls began to talk amongst themselves, discussing this new piece of information with the person directly beside them. The troll called Tempis frowned down at the grub in her hands. He was still crying, and he was now attempting to bite her hand. 

“Quiet!” shouted their leader. All talk ended, and the only sound that could still be heard was her grub's pitiful wailing. The leader looked back at Porrim. “You're a jade blood, then?”

She nodded. “I found him. And...I took him.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Look at him! He's...he's a mutant. No lusus would take him. He would have died in the caverns,” Porrim said, staring past him to look at her grub. “I tried to kill him. But I couldn't. So...I took him instead.”

The leader seemed satisfied with these answers. He turned towards Tempis and held out his hand. She happily turned over the grub and began to nurse her bleeding finger. The troll stared at her grub, frowning deeply. “Now that's a mutant if I ever saw one. Candy red blood. Never even heard of that before. He might be the first of his kind. And the last of it, too.”

Her heart was pounding in her ears. What was he going to do to him? Kill him? Kill both of them? The thought of his candy red blood spilled on the sand made her sick to her stomach. 

Without another word, the leader handed him back to her. A relieved smile broke across Porrim's face. She hugged him close, and in that moment swore she'd never let him go. “Shhh...it's alright, little one, it's alright...I'm here...”

Slowly, his cries began to fade. Over the past sixteen nights, he'd learned that Porrim's words and caresses meant safety. It meant he was safe from the blinding sun or the freezing winds. He was safe from desert serpents and thirst and hunger. Being in her arms reassured him that all was well and all would be well.

“You act like you're the damn thing's lusus.” The troll shook his head, frowning. “But I don't think you two are a threat to us. I'll call together a Council meeting, and we'll discuss whether or not you two can join us.”

Porrim frowned at him. “I don't wish to join you. I just need food for the grub, and water-”

“You don't understand,” he interrupted. “We can't risk you going off and getting caught by a bunch of threshecutioners and telling them where they can find a bunch of ferals in order to keep from getting your throat cut. You either join us, or you die. That's the deal.”

With that, he turned and limped off.


	2. Kankri

Tashun, the troll who she'd presumed was the leader, was in fact one of _twelve_ leaders. The other feral trolls referred to them solely as the Council. They were certainly a colorful group. Almost every hue on the hemospectrum was represented, not counting violet and fuchsia. But blood did not seem to have any bearing. The lowbloods spoke just as often and as freely as the highbloods. Perhaps because almost all of them seemed to have one thing in common: almost all of them had some sort of mutation or deformity.

There was Tashun, the brown blood with the limp; Lacene, a jade blood whose skin lit up like the sun when she got angry; Kiroph, a purple blood who had fins instead of ears; Nilcir, a young red blood who had no horns to speak of; Tutela, a purple blood with thick armored plates across her body; Shokan, a cerulean blood who had a second set of arms; and Pruina, whose skin and hair were white as snow. Though five of them – Viovis, Toazol, Jupaza, Kennoe, and Sanuor – looked completely normal. 

Porrim had plenty of time to memorize their names and faces. She sat before them with her grub in her lap for hours. They went back and forth, debating and arguing their various points. Some wanted to let her and the grub in. Others didn't trust her. She'd stopped paying attention to the debate about four hours before. It was too stressful. At first it seemed to lean towards killing her, then it seemed like they would let her in. Back and forth, back and forth. It was emotionally exhausting. By that point she'd blocked them out completely, and instead paid attention to her grub. He was wide awake and hungry again. To distract him (and herself) she tickled his stomach and teased him by gently tugging his hair. It was fun for both of them, and kept Porrim's mind off what was being said.

“...so have we reached an agreement?” Lacene said suddenly, snapping Porrim back to attention. There were nods all around the table. Their eyes turned towards her and the grub. Some of them were frowning, some were smiling. 

“Porrim Maryam,” said Kennoe, feigning a formal voice, “we have decided to accept you and your grub into the tribe.”

She let out a breath she did not know she had been holding.

“His food rations will come out of yours until he's big enough to do some work,” Kiroph added firmly. “And he's your responsibility. No one else's. Understand?” 

Porrim nodded quickly. “I understand.”

“You may go.” Lacene dismissed her with the wave of of her hand.

*

Her grub shifted uneasily in the sling, squealing quietly. He still wasn't used to it, nor did he like it. But the sling gave Porrim a way to carry him while keeping her hands free. It didn't seem as though he would be able to use it for long, anyway. In the past two weeks he had almost doubled in size. Most of her food rations had gone towards him, and he was beginning to grow. If he continued at the rate he should, her grub would be too big for the sling in another two weeks. 

“Shh, little one, shhh,” she said, attempting to hush him. Porrim ran her fingers through his hair, reassuring him that she was still there. Her little one grew quiet, though he had an almost sullen expression on his face.

Porrim smiled and went back to work. Her group had discovered a very large patch of edible plants. Or, rather, plants with edible roots. They'd spent half the night sitting on their knees and digging them up. The result was four baskets full of roots, with the number continuing to grow. It was going to be a great haul. Everyone back at the camp would be pleased. They would need plenty of food to last them through third winter, and the forest was bountiful. 

“It's really amazing, you know,” Nilcir said, glancing over at Porrim. “He's bonded to you like you're his lusus. No one thought that was possible. It's fascinating.”

She smiled slightly. “Fascinating?”

Nilcir nodded eagerly, momentarily setting her work aside. “There was this study I read about that never got approval. A group of scientists wanted permission to go into the hatching caverns and harvest grubs. They thought that a grub would attach itself to whoever raised it, whether that was a troll or a lusus or even a drone.”

“Why didn't they get approval?” Porrim asked, yanking a plant from the ground. 

“Something about violating the laws of nature. And it would pose a threat to the Mother Grub,” Nilcir replied. She shrugged and went back to work. “But you two have managed well enough.”

Porrim nodded, twisting them stem off one of the plants. She tossed it back into her basket with the flick of her wrist. Her grub whined and rolled over in the sling, attempting another escape attempt. It was promptly foiled by his custodian, who only chuckled at him. “He likes me better than most people, at least; he's stopped trying to bite me.”

Nilcir chuckled. “That's a good sign, I suppose.”

“This really is the best place for him,” Porrim said quietly, digging her nails into the soil. “He'll be around other trolls like him.”

Her companion raised her eyebrows. “As far as I can tell, he's the only one like him.”

“No, I mean...trolls that are different,” Porrim said. She gestured with one dirt-covered hand at Nilcir's hornless head. “He won't feel quite as out of place.”

“I think he'll always feel out of place.” Nilcir pulled another plant from the ground. “I know I do. You feel...different. All the time. And my mutation isn't really that big. He's on a whole different level; he shouldn't even exist.”

Porrim hissed. “Don't say that.”

“Porrim, he's going to hear it no matter where he is,” Nilcir said with a frown. “People are going to call him a freak. A mistake. A fuck-up. A piece of shit. A monster. Even here, in the Tribe. It's going to be a part of his life. There's nothing you can do about that. So just accept it, and let him learn to deal with it when it comes.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but thought better of it. What Nilcir said – though hard to stomach – was one hundred percent true. Her grub would always be an outcast. Even in the wild, where the rules had been turned on their back. There was no place for him anywhere in their world. Nothing she did or said could change that. But she could be there. She would hold him when he cried and teach him how to fight back. How to throw their own venom back in their faces. How to defend himself. 

“He'll deal with it,” Porrim replied, looking down at him. “And he'll grow from it.”

*

Several weeks passed, until one night Porrim awoke to find that her grub had vanished. In his place was a candy red chrysalis, hanging suspended from the roof of her tent. His pupation had begun.

So the waiting began. Porrim carried on her work and duties as per usual. The Tribe was largely focused on amassing a food supply, and much of her time was spent foraging or hunting. Occasionally she would stay behind to weave clothes or patch up damaged tents. Other nights she was put on water duty, the most hated job in the Tribe. It entailed walking to the nearest source of water (typically a kilometer away), filling a large jug until it was in danger of spilling, and carrying it all the way back to the camp. The work was laborious, and she often found herself dumping water all over the ground and was forced to go back for more. The one perk was that she no longer had to divide her food rations between herself and her grub. At least, not until he hatched.

There were nights when she would sit next to the chrysalis and try to see in. It was difficult, but at times she thought she could see his silhouette. On those nights she would sing to him, softly serenading him as he went through his hibernation.

Her status in the Tribe slowly increased. When she'd first joined, both she and her grub were regarded with cold distrust. Only a handful of trolls, such as Nilcir, would make conversation with her. As time went on, the others began to warm up to her slightly. Sometimes they asked about her grub. And the question she received most often was: “What will you name him?” 

A troll lived without a name until they were chosen by a lusus. Their lusus would name them by making a specific sound, often to call the wriggler to them in case of danger. That sound turned into their name. But Porrim was a troll, not a lusus. How was she supposed to go about it? There were trolls that she could name him after. Great warriors and conquerors. There was Aazoth, the first troll to invade and take control of an alien planet. Or Cloros, a great artist and inventor. She tossed hundreds of names around in her head, and even asked others for suggestions. Many of them tossed out names of famous generals, such as Mamool, Belias, Rosier, Luvart, and Pesado. But none of them seemed to fit her grub. There were a few names that got her attention, but after a few nights of mulling them over didn't seem to fit.

Her grub was a unique one, and he deserved a name that was all his own. How she would come up with that name, she had no idea.

Towards the end of his pupation, summer turned to autumn. The Tribe began to prepare for their next big move. They would finish out the sweep in another camp, farther south and away from the chill of winter. The drawback was that they would be closer to towns and cities than they would have liked. But trying to withstand the winter in their current location would be suicide. 

Preparations for the journey began. Porrim prayed that her grub would emerge soon. She was not sure if they would be able to move the chrysalis before he'd emerged. If they found they could not, she would be forced to leave him behind. He would hatch from pupation and find himself completely alone with winter approaching fast. Staying behind with him wouldn't be an option. Nobody went out on their own, especially not for an extended period of time. It was too much of a security risk.

While everyone was busy with the arrangements, Porrim began to prepare for her wriggler. She sewed him clothes out of leftover cloth. There was no way to know how big or small he would be, and to stay on the safe side she sewed him clothes of all sizes. If they were too big, he could always grow into them. Just so long as he would have enough to get him through the winter. She lined some of the coats and cloaks with pawbeast fur, and made everything from the warmest materials they had available. Her fear was that, if he hatched on time, he might not last through the winter. 

Their final days at the camp required them to cover up all evidence that they had been there. They scattered the ashes from their fires, recovered all their traps, and scoured the camp for stray tools and pieces of cloth. It was an extremely stressful time for all of them. One person had misplaced an arrow, another couldn't find their jacket. An ax had been lost somewhere in the forest. Porrim felt as though everyone was trying to erase their footprints before they even made them.

It was during this brief scramble that her grub emerged from pupation.

On their second to last night at the camp, Porrim awoke and found there were two cracks in his chrysalis. They began in the center up near the top, and ran down each side in a V shape. A thrill of excitement went through her, but she couldn't wait around all night for him to hatch. There was much work to be done. All of the food was being gathered, preserved, and assigned to various trolls to be carried. She spent all night packing wild fruits into baskets while eying her tent. When she was done, she rushed back to her tent.

The cracks were wider. She could see gray skin and black hair. The wriggler was pushing on the center of the chrysalis, using his limbs for the first time. Porrim sat in front of the chrysalis and watched in silent wonder.

The movement paused.

Then, suddenly, the wriggler came tumbling out of the chrysalis head first. The drop was short – perhaps two feet – and he landed flat on his back. Porrim couldn't help but laugh. Her little one had just headbutted his way into the world, which perhaps wasn't a bad way to start things.

The wriggler stared up at the tent ceiling for a moment, blinking his eyes. He had not used them in almost half a sweep. His irises had turned gray, and it was now impossible to tell his blood color. Her little one was just like any other wriggler in Alternia now. He was about one sweep old, though he was rather small for his age. Dark gray freckles still dusted his cheeks, though they were now visible on his shoulders and back as well. His horns were short and rounded. Everything about him seemed healthy, despite his slight stature. Porrim thought he was the most handsome wriggler she'd ever seen.

Slowly, he began to sit up. It was a struggle, but young trolls learned fast. Typically after emerging from pupation, they would be forced to go through the trials. Those required little ones to not only stand, but run. If a wriggler who couldn't run within six hours of emerging from their chrysalis, they wouldn't have a chance.

He succeeded in sitting up. When he saw Porrim, he smiled. His small hands reached out for her.

 _He remembers me_ , Porrim thought with a smile. She held her arms out to him. “Come to me, little one.”

“Riiii!” squealed the wriggler. He continued to reach for her. But, after a minute or so, he began to realize that she would not be coming to him. That left only one course of action. Her wriggler began to test his legs. They were awkward and shaky; it took him several tries to stand. When he attempted to take a step, he fell. But he wasn't discouraged. With some more struggling and some determined squealing, he got back on his feet. 

This time, he managed to get three steps in before falling. Porrim couldn't help but giggle.

“Riiii!” he growled at her. He sent a reproachful look in her direction as he got back on his feet. She covered her mouth to hide her smile. 

On his third attempt at walking, her wriggler succeeded in smoothly navigating the remaining distance between them. He fell into her lap, giggling. “Riii! Riiii!”

“See? I knew you could do it,” Porrim said, setting her hand on his cheek. “And you did it all by yourself.”

He looked up into her eyes and grinned. Suddenly she felt as though she'd been shot through the chest. That smile was so innocent. So trusting. So beautiful. A surge of emotion rushed through her veins. It was a completely new, untapped emotion. It was the feeling of having a life in your hands and nurturing it. It was the feeling of bringing something precious and wonderful into the world. For a moment she was reminded of how the Mother Grub would look over the newly laid eggs before they were taken away. There had been in a look in her eyes, a look that Porrim had not understood until now. It was love. Pure, unadulterated love. 

She was the Mother Grub, and this little wriggler was her brood. Tears filled her eyes, though why she could not really say. “I've been waiting for you to wake up for almost half a sweep now, little one.”

“Riii?” he said, tilting his head to one side. 

“I'm happy you're finally here.” Porrim hugged him close, and he rested his cheek against her shoulder. She smiled. “I guess I can't avoid naming you any longer, now can I? Let's see...what to call you...Cloros, maybe? Or perhaps-”

“Kankri?” said the wriggler, looking at her questioningly. 

“...Kankri.” Porrim repeated. She raised her eyebrows. It was almost as if the little one had answered her question. 

“Kankri!” cheered the wriggler.

She was about to dismiss it as just childish wriggler babble, but it suddenly struck her that it might not be a bad name for him. It was unique. And hadn't she decided he deserved a name that was all his own? “Do you want to be Kankri, then?”

“Kankri,” he answered.

Porrim smiled. “Alright, then I suppose you are Kankri.”

“Riiii,” Kankri cooed. He smiled again, and Porrim kissed his nose.


	3. Snowtrolls

“Are you hungry?” Porrim asked, offering Kankri a wriggler-sized piece of meat. 

“No,” he answered. 

“Are you sure?” Porrim raised her eyebrows. 

“No.” He held out his hands for the food and grinned.

Chuckling, Porrim handed it to him. Almost seven nights after his pupation, Kankri's vocabulary had doubled. In addition to knowing his own name (which he said constantly), he had learned the word 'no'. Perhaps because the phrase “Kankri, no!” was becoming very common among the members of the Tribe. Porrim hadn't realized how much trouble wrigglers could be.

The food was gone in a matter of moments. He held his hands back out for more.

“That's all for now, little one,” Porrim told him. They still had another week to go on their journey to the new camp, and even once they got there food would be strictly rationed. 

Still Kankri persisted. He looked at her pleadingly.

“I don't have any more food right now,” she said. Porrim pulled him into her lap and wrapped her arms around him. The Tribe had set up camp for the night after the snow had started to fall. They'd predicted a nasty storm, and no one wanted to get caught in it. She looked around at all the camp fires and tents, pondering if they would be enough to keep out winter's icy claws.

Her little one sighed heavily, resting his head against her chest. 

Porrim ran her hand through his hair. “I know. It's been a long night, hasn't it?”

He nodded, closing his eyes. They had spent the majority of the night traveling towards the next camp. In order to hide their numbers, the Tribe walked in single file and attempted to step in each other's footsteps. That way, if anyone attempted to track them, it might only appear that there were two or three trolls rather than forty. Kankri had hopped from footprint to footprint, giggling and squealing with glee. When he became too tired for that, Porrim carried him on her shoulders. 

“When spring comes, it'll be better,” she assured him. “We'll have more food. And you'll learn all sorts of new words.”

“No.” He hid his face in Porrim's shoulder. 

His custodian chuckled. “Yes, you will.” 

It was only then did she realize that someone was watching them. Clutching Kankri closer, she looked around for some prowling beast or mysterious stranger. But eventually she realized that their observers were sitting beside one of the fires. Every so often one of them would look over, frown, and shake their heads in disgust. 

“Not natural...” muttered a troll. She racked her brain for his name, and finally remembered that he was called Tarsus. 

“The troll custodian or the mutantblood?” asked his companion. 

“Both,” he answered, shooting Porrim a dark glare.

Porrim wanted to go confront him, but she thought better of it. Instead she stood, still holding Kankri, and walked to their tent. In-fighting was forbidden in the Tribe. All disputes had to be taken to the Council for them to resolve. Though this matter wasn't worth the walk to their tents. No one would care that someone had called her and her wriggler unnatural. Especially when she was sure certain members of the Council agreed with that statement.

She laid Kankri down on a pile of rags, which served as their sleeping place. There was no way to carry and transport recuperacoons. So everyone had to sleep on mats, pallets, or piles of soft materials. There was a very limited amount of sopor slime, and it was only used if a person's sleep deprivation began to interfere with their work. It didn't bother her as much as it would bother Kankri. Once trolls hit puberty, the nightmares worsened considerably and didn't let up until they were well into adulthood. She wondered how he'd ever get any sleep. 

“I don't care what they say,” she said, brushing Kankri's hair out of his eyes. “You're completely natural. You came from the Mother Grub just like the rest of us, didn't you?”

Kankri cooed and smiled up at her. “No.”

“Are you sure about that?” Porrim asked, smiling in return.

“No,” he answered.

She chuckled and kissed his forehead. “Go to sleep, little one. You need the rest.”

It didn't take Kankri long to drift off to sleep. The night had left him completely exhausted. Porrim laid down beside him. She tried to sleep, but she kept thinking about the remarks she'd heard. Nilcir was right; even amongst a group of mutants and outcasts, Kankri would always be alone. It was only just beginning. How was she going to prepare him for this sort of life? What could she possibly do or say to make things better? 

Eventually, Porrim drifted off to sleep. She had nightmares about the Tribe killing Kankri to pieces so that his candy red blood spattered across the ground.

*

“Mother!” Kankri said, tugging on her dress. “Mother! Up!”

Porrim sighed and looked down at him. The Tribe had been trudging through knee-high snow for the past five nights. In that short amount of time Kankri had learned a variety of words: Mother, up, down, and yes. She was delighted at his progress, but he had been quite the burden. Since the snow was so high, he could not walk through it. He had to be carried. This did not mean he wanted to be. He would squirm and try to escape her grasp, making much more work for her. The snow had abated slightly, and now that he had to walk, Kankri wanted nothing more to be carried.

“No, Kankri,” she said. “You can walk. Go on, we have to keep moving.”

“Up!” he insisted.

“I'll carry him!” Kennoe appeared behind Porrim suddenly, making her jump. “C'mere, ya little wriggler.”

Seconds later Kankri was sitting on her shoulders, looking slightly confused but pleased. He grabbed her horns to help with balance, and squealed as she trotted ahead. 

“Kennoe, you really don't have to, he's my-” Porrim began, hurrying after her.

“Don't worry about it, Maryam,” Kennoe turned around, grinning at her. “The rules are you can't ask anyone for help with him. But I volunteered!”

That didn't ease her mind at all. Kennoe was a highblood. She was once a highblood, and at one point in her life was an esteemed threshecutioner. That itself would have been bad enough, but she was also completely unpredictable. One night she'd decided she was tired of her life, freed an entire ship full of slaves, and became a fugitive on the run. She was unstable. And Porrim didn't want a troll like that carrying around her charge.

“Kennoe, really, it's alright-” Porrim said, reaching for Kankri.

Kennoe stepped back, still grinning. “What? Don't trust me?”

“Frankly,” Porrim said, “no. Not at all.”

“Guess I just have to earn your trust then. C'mon, nubs! We're going up to the front of the line!” Kennoe said. Before Porrim could stop her, she ran ahead to the front of the train. Kankri was giggling and squealing the entire way. He even turned around to wave goodbye.

While his mother attempted to catch up, Kankri was enjoying himself. Kennoe wasn't as heavily burdened as his mother (as she only had to carry supplies for one), and she ran swiftly through the snow. Other trolls glared at them as they ran past, but he didn't care. He liked the feeling of the cold wind running through his hair, and Kennoe was much more entertaining than his custodian. They stopped near the front of the line, where the quickest and most able-bodied trolls walked. He and Mother always had to walk near the back, as he slowed them down. 

“Doing alright up there, nubs?” Kennoe asked.

“Yes!” he answered. 

At that moment another Council member, Jupaza, turned around to glare at him. “Kennoe, I thought we all agreed that he was Porrim's responsibility.”

“We did! But no one said I couldn't kidnap the little guy for a while,” Kennoe answered with a bright grin. “Besides, look at his cute little face. You aren't really gonna make this delicate wriggler walk all this way, are you?”

Jupaza merely huffed and kept walking.

During this exchange, Kankri had decided to take a look around. He was old enough to realize he was being talked about, but not quite old enough to care. Everything else just seemed much more interesting. 

The forest was beginning to thin out and give way to large meadows and glades. Snow covered everything, and wild beasts occasionally ran across their path. The world was bright and new for him. Every time they passed underneath a low hanging branch, he would reach up and try to grab it. At one point he succeeded and dumped snow on to both of their heads.

Kennoe laughed. “Why'd you go and do that, nubs? Now we're both cold and wet.”

“Yes!” Kankri cheered.

“Was that your evil plan all along?” Kennoe asked, brushing snow off her arms. “To dump snow on my head? No wonder Maryam is tired all the time; you're a little devil!”

Kankri only giggled and shook the snow off his head. At that moment a familiar pair of hands plucked him off of Kennoe's shoulders and brushed the rest of the snow off his clothes. He smiled up at Porrim, reaching his hands up and wrapping them around her neck. “Mother!”

“Hey Maryam,” Kennoe said, grinning. “That wriggler of yours is a piece of work.”

Porrim frowned at her, clutching Kankri close. He was unhurt, and seemed perfectly happy. But she was still angry that Kennoe had run off with him. The only person she trusted to look after Kankri was herself. It was true that she was in completely uncharted territory; no troll had ever attempted to raise a wriggler. Porrim knew as much about wriggler raising as anyone else did. But Kankri was hers, and hers alone. 

“Never run off with him again!” she hissed. “Do you understand me?”

Kennoe shrugged. “I was just trying to help. If people see a member of the Council running around with him on their shoulders, well, maybe they'll open up to him more. You get me?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, your wriggler is the youngest one in this little merry band. And he's also got one of the weirdest mutations anyone's ever come across, and that's saying a lot. I mean, have you seen Tetula? The more other people get to know him, the better,” Kennoe explained. “When people don't understand something, they tend to want to stick a knife in it.”

Porrim didn't want to admit it, but Kennoe did have a point. She looked down at Kankri, who was still smiling away. If only he could stay this blissfully ignorant the rest of his life. It would save him a great deal of pain. “I understand you mean well. I just don't like it when he's out of my sight. If I can't see him, I start thinking of everything that could go wrong. He could fall and hurt himself, or get attacked by a beast. Or a million other things. The only way I can know he's safe is if he's right here with me.”

“That won't be possible much longer. Wriggler like that is going to get himself in more and more trouble the bigger he gets,” Kennoe said, smirking at Kankri. “If you try to keep him on a leash, he'll just gnaw it off.”

With that, Kennoe kept walking. The others began to pass them, barely looking at either of them. When all the others had gone past, Porrim fell back into line with Kankri still in her arms. 

“Mother?” he said.

She looked down at him.

“Up?” Kankri smiled at her.

Porrim sighed a bit, then nodded. She carefully lifted him up on to her shoulders, where he remained for the rest of the night. 

*

Due to another bout of heavy snow, it took them another seven nights to reach the campsite. It was located in an indention between four large hills. The land was dotted by a few trees and high grass. There was a river about a kilometer away, partially hidden by thick brush. The snow had let up now that they were farther south, but a thin coat of it still dusted the ground. A couple of scouts had reported that the river had a thin layer of ice over it, but had broken it easily to get through to the water. The entire area made her nervous. If she looked directly to the south at night, she could see lights. They weren't very far from a city, and it worried her. Her nightmares got worse over their first few nights there. First, she dreamed Kankri tried to walk on the icy river and drowned. Then she dreamed he wandered into the city and was culled by a drone. Though they were now supposed to be in a 'safe spot', Porrim was more anxious than ever.

Kankri, however, was perfectly happy with their new home. Every night he got stronger, more vocal, and just a little bit taller. He enjoyed following Porrim around while she carried out her nightly duties. And while he often grew bored if she spent too much time on one task, he found other ways to amuse himself. The world was a big, new place for a recently pupated troll. Rocks, twigs, and leaves could keep him occupied for hours. Things that moved, such as bugs and small creatures, provided even more entertainment. But his favorite toy, by far, was the snow. It snowed more and more each night, which made it difficult to hunt and forage for food. For Kankri, however, it was the one thing that kept his attention all night.

His custodian watched him carefully at all times, haunted by nightmares and secret worries. But seeing him play made her relax. He built little trolls out of the snow, using rocks and twigs to makes their eyes and their horns. Kankri even gave them names.

“This one is Rufioh,” he said, pointing to a snowman with two large sticks sticking out of the side of his head. 

“Why does he have grass poking out of his back?” Porrim asked, smiling.

Kankri frowned and rolled his eyes, as though the answer were obvious. “Those are his _wings_.”

She paused. “Why does he have wings?”

Her charge shrugged and offered no explanation. He pointed to the snow troll next to Rufioh. “She's Damara.”

“Where are her horns?” Porrim asked, fearing he'd invented another mutant friend. Suddenly she paused. Why shouldn't his playmates be mutants? After all, he was surrounded by them. Mutants and criminals and runaway slaves. Those were his contemporaries, and all he'd ever known.

“Her horns are hard. They're curly,” Kankri answered. 

“Curly horns. I suppose those would be hard to replicate with twigs,” Porrim said. Her little one nodded, a solemn look on his face. She couldn't help but smile. “Why don't you make one that looks like you? You won't need very big sticks to make your horns!”

“ _Mother_!” Kankri said. She laughed, only to stop when her little one threw a handful of snow at her. She froze, and so did he.

“...Kankri,” she said slowly. “Do you know what you've just done?”

He shook his head slowly, his eyes wide with terror.

“You have just initiated a snowball fight,” Porrim said, grabbing a handful of snow and forming it into a ball. She threw it at Kankri, hitting him in the chest. He laughed and fell to the ground. Moments later he returned fire, throwing a snowball at her. It hit her shoulder. They exchanged vollies of snow, sometimes hitting each other but mostly missing. The fight was ended by Jupaza, who walked past and shouted at Porrim to get back to work if she wanted any food for the night. Both she and Kankri immediately became silent and still until she was gone. Then, once she had disappeared into the grass, they both started to laugh.

“She's cranky,” Kankri said, grinning.

“Yes, she is,” Porrim replied, rubbing his head. “But she's right. I have to get back to work. Why don't you play with your little snow friends some more?”

Kankri grinned and nodded, immediately going back to his task. He managed to make one more snow troll before they went back to camp. Its name was Porrim.


	4. The Incident

“Come on, Kankri!” Meenah shouted, running down the hallway. Her footsteps echoed through the grand, coral pink corridor. He grinned and raced after her. Servants smiled at them and bowed respectfully as they passed. But in the back of his mind he knew their respect was for Meenah, not him. She was the heiress after all.

They raced through the halls until they came to the front entrance. Together they waited, hand in hand, and watched the doors. 

“How long do you think she'll stay this time?” Meenah asked, squeezing his hand.

“Maybe she'll stay till after my wriggling day,” Kankri replied. 

The doors opened, and the Empress walked in accompanied by her train of servants and guards. A smile spread across her face when she saw them. Slowly, Empress Feferi knelt down and outstretched her arms. Her two charges, now three sweeps old, ran into her embrace.

“Oh, look at you two! You've gotten so big!” Feferi exclaimed. 

“How long are you staying this time?” Meenah asked, bouncing eagerly.

The Empress beamed at her. “Until you are ready to rule, Meenah. You're three sweeps old now, and it's time to begin your training.”

“I'll never rule.”

Kankri looked over at her, and suddenly Meenah was six sweeps old. And so was he. They were standing the same corridor that they had raced down as children. Now they were so much older. 

“It's your responsibility, Meenah!” Kankri hissed. “Who is going to take your place?”

“You can have the throne for all I care!” Meenah snapped. She turned to walk away. Angrily, Kankri stormed after her. He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. When he did, Meenah pressed the prongs of a trident against his chest. “Try it, nubs. I'm leaving. You ain't gonna stop that.”

_Messing up everything she's messing up everything her fault all her fault_

He took a step back. “Fine. Go for all I care. You'd be an awful queen anyway.”

When she was gone, he went to one of the windows and stared up at the moon. It hung bright and pink in the sky, surrounded by the stars. He was certain she would head for the moon. Most of the colonies there had been abandoned as their race expanded its reach into other colonies, and she could live there relatively unnoticed. Kankri sighed heavily and ran his hands through his hair. When he looked back out the window, a meteor was hurtling towards him. He yelled and pressed his back against the wall-

“Kankri! Kankri, wake up!”

Kankri awoke and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Porrim was in the process of getting dressed. 

“Come on, get ready; you have to get your job assignments for the night,” she said. For a moment he simply stared at her in groggy confusion. Then he remembered the significance of that particular night. He was turning three sweeps old, and the Council had decided he was old enough to begin earning his keep. Snapping awake immediately, Kankri hurriedly began to get dressed.

“Don't pull your pants up that high, dear, it looks silly,” Porrim said, walking over to help him. As she pulled his pants back down to an acceptable height, Kankri bounced excitedly on his heels.

“I had a sad dream last night,” he said.

His mother made a small noise of interest, as she was busy fixing his shirt. The dreams were nothing new. Ever since Kankri could form full sentences, he'd talked excitedly about his 'dream friends'. It was beginning to trouble her. Everyone had presumed that Kankri would grow out of it, but he hadn't yet. 

“It was sad because Meenah ran away,” Kankri said. 

“I'm sorry, dear,” his custodian replied disinterestedly.

“It's because she didn't want to be empress when she was older. I was really mad at her,” Kankri continued. 

At the word 'empress' his mother froze. She met her little one's eyes, looking at him sternly. “What do you mean she didn't want to be empress, Kankri? Meenah isn't a fuchsia blood, is she?”

“Yes, she is! She's a sea-dweller. So is Cronus,” Kankri said, mistaking her horror for interest. “But Meenah didn't want to rule so she ran away. And then there was this-”

Porrim sighed in exasperation and took him by the hand, leading him out of the tent. She'd find a way to put a stop to these little fantasies. Eventually. He was still young, after all. “You can tell me about it later, dear. You have a big night ahead of you.”

They walked out of their tent hand-in-hand. As per usual, they were among the first to sit down at the center of camp for the nightly job assignments. Kankri was practically bursting with excitement. Ever since he was a grub, his mother was forced to work for two. Now he was finally old enough to earn his own food. He waited anxiously for the others to wake up and get ready. All of them already knew what their job assignments would be, of course. After someone joined the Tribe (an event that hadn't happened since he and his mother arrived), they were tested with all sorts of jobs. Once the Council found out what you were best at, you were continually assigned to those jobs. His mother was almost always in charge of repairing tents and making clothes. But Kankri was a complete unknown. 

What would they give him first? Hunting? Weapon-making? Fishing? Foraging?

Slowly, the other members began to wake up and take their places. Once everyone was gathered, the typical assignments were given. They went through all forty-seven members of the Tribe, eventually reaching the end of the list. Kankri held his breath.

“As for Kankri...” Tashun said, looking up. “You're on water duty tonight.”

“Crap,” he mumbled, crossing his arms.

“Language,” Porrim said, smiling slightly. She kissed the top of his head. “Look at it this way: at least you can't get yourself into any trouble.” 

Kankri huffed as breakfast rations were passed out. “I wanted to do _real_ work, Mother. I want to make a difference.”

“I still think you're too young to be doing any work,” Porrim said, taking a bit of bread and breaking it in half. “And water duty is very important, Kanny. Just because work goes unnoticed, doesn't mean it didn't make a difference.”

He frowned as he bit into his half of the bread. “You're just saying that.”

“No, I'm not. It's true,” Porrim said with a smile. “The smallest deed can make a huge difference.”

The trolls began to break into their groups, and went off to perform their tasks. Porrim tearfully kissed the top of Kankri's head and departed with her group. It seemed like it was only yesterday when he was just a sweep old and always at her heels. Now he was three sweeps, and working for his own food. Where had all of that time gone?

Water duty was divided between five trolls that night, the oldest of which gave Kankri a long drawn out lecture of how to perform this particular job. (As though Kankri hadn't watched his mother do it before.) They each picked up a large clay hug and headed for the river, walking just behind the fishing group. Kankri struggled to keep up with the adults; the jug was almost as large as he was, and it was difficult to see where he was going.

When they reached the river, they all filled their clay pots and began the walk back to camp. Halfway there, Kankri dropped his jug. Water spilled all over him and the ground, and he was forced to go back to refill it.

By the time he'd made it back to the river, the fishing group had spread out along its banks. Upstream he could see a cluster of poles spaced a couple of meters apart. Downstream was Kiroph, who preferred to fish with his trident. He was standing waist-deep in the middle of the river, his weapon held high in the air. Kankri knelt beside the bank and watched him for a moment. Kiroph had always intimidated him slightly. He was three times his size and always carried his trident in one hand. When he was fishing, he was frozen like a statue. Kankri found himself holding his breath as he watched him.

Suddenly Kiroph lunged, plunging his trident into the water. Moments later, he swore and retracted it. “Missed.”

“Why do you fish like that?” Kankri asked, causing him to look up.

“Don't you have work to be doing?” Kiroph replied gruffly, poising the trident in the air again. 

Kankri walked to the water's edge and dipped the pot into it. “Well, why do you?”

Kiroph shrugged. “I always have. Maybe it's because I'm too much of a sea-dweller for my own good. Maybe it's because I'm a mutant. We're always an odd bunch.”

The word 'mutant' piqued Kankri's interest. He was vaguely aware that he was a mutant himself. But his condition was not typically visible, and rarely effected his life. Not only that, but he had been surrounded by mutants and oddballs since he was a grub. In his mind, mutant was just another word for normal. He slowly lifted the jug out of the water. “What do you mean?”

“Mutants always have little quirks and kinks in their personalities,” Kiroph said. “Just look at me.”

He plunged the trident back into the water, this time having success. When he pulled it back out of the water, there was a fish flopping on the end of the middle prong. He grinned. “First catch of the day!”

Kankri's eyes went wide. He was vaguely aware of the clay pot slipping from his grasp. Then, all at once, everything changed. He was no longer standing by the river. He was in a completely different place entirely, where puddles of candy red blood littered the ground and the trees were made of white bones. Meenah was standing in front of him, pointing her trident at him. She was smirking triumphantly. In his hand was a sickle, but it felt strange and bulky as though he weren't used to holding it.

He looked down. The prongs of her trident were embedded in his stomach. 

His mind was completely blank. It was as though his eyes couldn't process what they were seeing. He looked from the trident, to her, to the trident. A drop of blood ran down his abdomen. 

“Meenah-” he said. 

She wrenched the trident back with a sudden jerk, tearing muscle and organ and tissue on its way out. White hot pain momentarily blinded him. The sickle fell from his hand. He went down on his knees. Suddenly his mind seemed to spring back into action. A million emotions ran through him. Betrayal, agony, anger, disbelief. He put his hand over the wound. When he pulled it away, his entire palm was covered with candy red blood.

_Her fault all her fault everything why did she do this we grew up together does she hate me this much I hate her I hate her so much all her fault why does she mess everything up all her fault_

“Why?” he gasped, staring up at her.

“It's a game, nubs,” she said. With that, she hurried off.

The pain was so intense. Tears were in his eyes. He gritted his teeth. Porrim was somewhere on his planet. She was here. He just had to find her. Find her and get her to kiss him. But he'd have to die first.

_I'm going to die._

He tried to stand, but couldn't. He began to crawl.

_Going to die._

He was losing too much blood. His head felt light, and his arms and legs suddenly seemed ten times heavier. 

_Don't wanna die..._

He collapsed.

_All her fault don't want to die don't want to die help me someone help me don't want to die don't want to die don't want to die_

The world went dark as someone called his name.

“Kankri? Kankri, open your eyes! Kankri!”

When Kankri awoke, he was back on the riverbed. He gasped and sat up, his hands pressing against his stomach. There was no wound. No blood. Yet he couldn't stop trembling. Kankri had just experienced death. He was sure of it. He'd felt life slipping away from him, slipping through his fingers like water. He still felt the pain, the fear, the anger. So angry. So, so angry...

It was only then did he realize he was completely surrounded by people. Kiroph was kneeling beside him, his trident laying forgotten beside the water. His mother was on his opposite side. Trolls from the fishing group and water duty group had gathered around, trying to figure out what was wrong. Kankri looked around at their concerned faces and felt disoriented. For a moment he couldn't remember who they were or where he was. Where was Meenah? Why was he no longer on LOBAT? 

Then, slowly, he began to remember. This was his Tribe. He was at the river near one of their camps. 

“Kankri, are you alright?” Porrim asked, setting a hand on his cheek. “Look at me, sweetie, tell me what happened.”

“I- I don't know.” He felt as though he were going to throw up. His head was suddenly killing him, and his hands still wouldn't stop shaking. “I...I don't feel well.”

“Maybe he's getting sick,” Kiroph suggested.

His mother nodded in agreement. “Come on, Kanny. I'm taking you back to camp. I think you need to rest.”

He didn't trust himself to open his mouth and reply, for fear of getting sick all over everyone who was too close. So Kankri just nodded. His mother picked him up and he wrapped his arms around her neck. When they reached the camp, he finally threw up outside their tent.

*

Everyone reached the general consensus that Kankri was sick. If he felt better the next night, he could go back to work. If not, he would have to stay in his tent and rest. His mother was partly convinced that the work had been too much for him. She stayed by his side constantly, asking if he needed anything. At dinner, she encouraged him to eat despite his lack of appetite. 

Kankri didn't tell them about what he had seen.

He had dreamed about Meenah before, along with the rest of his 'dream friends'. But he'd never had a dream that involved anything like _that_. Nor had he ever had a dream while he was awake. If it could even be called a dream. It felt like...a memory, almost. But that was impossible. Meenah was just a dream friend. She didn't actually exist. 

“It's not real,” he whispered to himself. “It's not real.”

“What's not real?” Porrim asked, glancing over. She was busy sewing a new cloak for him, as second autumn was fast approaching. 

“Nothing Mother,” he said, rolling on to his side. Kankri resolved to just forget what had happened. He was sure it was just a one-time incident. It wouldn't happen again.

At least, he hoped it wouldn't.


	5. Escaping the Handmaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone!

The visions did not stop coming.

At first, they were sporadic. He would go for several weeks without any sort of incident. Just when he began to think that they might have stopped for good, something would trigger another one out of nowhere. Almost everyone in the Tribe was aware of his 'condition', and most had seen an attack in person. Though he never allowed them to know the full extent of it. All they knew was that, at certain times, Kankri would freeze and stop whatever he was doing, and then faint. They did not know that these episodes were always accompanied by visions.

Everyone presumed his mysterious condition was linked to his unusual blood color, and was written off as a genetic anomaly. For his own safety he was relegated to less dangerous tasks, such as foraging and weaving. No one wanted him having a fainting spell in the middle of a hunt or when he was out scouting. It was a crushing disappointment for Kankri, but he understood why the decision had been made.

Soon the visions became another part of his life. Every few nights or so, something would set it off. There seemed to be hundreds of triggers, and there was no way to avoid them all. The visions always seemed somehow related to whatever set it off. Seeing Kennoe's threshecutioner sickle on her hip might set off a vision in which he was attacking a monster with a similar weapon. Hearing his mother's name said aloud could set off a vision of a conversation between he and his dream friend Porrim. It never ended, and the visions were unavoidable. Once it had been triggered, there was no going back. After he woke up he would always be left with a head-splitting migraine, and sometimes he would throw up.

He struggled to discern the meaning of the visions. There were times he considered telling his mother about them, but she was worried enough as it was. He didn't want to give her another reason to be concerned. 

So Kankri kept silent, and attempted to solve the mystery on his own.

One night, about half a sweep after his first vision, he had another particularly gruesome one. While at their third camp of the sweep, he, Porrim, and Nilcir went to a small cliff. It was largely barren of plant life, but a number of hardy bushes that managed to take root and flourish. These bushes produced sweet yellow berries, and could be either eaten or used for medicinal purposes.

“Be careful Kanny,” Porrim warned, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “Don't get too close to the edge. You could slip.”

Kankri nodded, only half-hearing her. He plucked the berries off the bushes, tossing them into his basket. He was attempting to lose himself in the work so that he could forget about how hungry he was. The hunting parties had been coming up empty-handed recently, so food rations had taken a hit. Kankri was tempted to sneak a few berries into his pocket, but he knew that doing so could result in punishment. Anyone who stole food from the rest of the Tribe could be whipped for doing so. 

“Kanny!” Porrim yelled suddenly. She grabbed his arm and yanked him back. It was only then did he realize how close he had been to the edge. A few berries fell out of his basket and tumbled down, falling and falling and falling...

 _No, not now_ , he thought. _Not now-_

His surroundings changed. He was in some sort of strange land, surrounded by monsters. The sky was dark, and they stood on the edge of a cliff. Two of his dream friends were with him: Porrim and Aranea.

“They just keep coming!” he snarled, slashing at one of the monsters with his sickle. The monsters were separating them, cutting them off from each other so they'd be more vulnerable. When did they start getting so smart? Kankri heard the sound of Porrim revving her chainsaw. Black imp blood and grist flew threw the air. She was holding her own, but she kept giving ground.

She was heading for the edge.

“Porrim, watch-!” Kankri shouted. He was cut off as an imp bit into his arm. Kankri snarled and hacked it off, leaving only small chunks of grist in its place. When he looked back at Porrim, she took a step too far back and fell.

“NO!” Aranea and Kankri screamed in unison. They both watched her fall. She slammed into the ground with a loud _WHAM_. The sound made his gut twist. 

The vision ended there. He awoke lying a little ways away from the cliff with his head in his mother's lap. As per usual, he had a splitting headache.

“Are you alright, little one?” his mother asked, running her hands through his hair.

He nodded, slowly sitting up. “I'm...I'm ok.”

“Can you work?” Nilcir asked. She was still working. These fainting episodes were nothing new. And while she was concerned, it was nothing to stop work over. They had forty-seven hungry mouths to feed. 

Kankri nodded slowly. He felt as though he were going to be sick, but he didn't want to make the trip back to the camp. So he picked up his basket (which had spilled all of its contents when he fainted) and went back to work. His mother and Nilcir took care to keep him away from the edge, just in case he fainted again. (Kankri knew he wouldn't; he hadn't ever had two visions on the same night before.) 

His migraine and the vision helped clear his aching stomach, at least. The golden berries that had seemed so tempting before were now sickening to look at. He picked them mechanically and did his best not to glance down into his basket. The sight of all of them at once might send him over the edge and make him sick. His head was pounding, and every sound was like a knife in his temple. The other gatherers did their best to be quiet for his sake; they knew how awful his headaches could get after a fainting spell. 

When they were halfway done, it began to rain.

It was both a blessing and a curse. The rain was refreshingly cool on his face and arms. But the sound of millions of droplets hitting leaves and stone and soil sounded like a constant roar. His head continued to throb, and he had to sit down to keep from throwing up.

Nilcir cast him a sympathetic look as he sat. Reaching into her pack, she tossed him a piece of fruit. 

“I was saving it for lunch,” she said. “But you need to eat. You look white.”

Kankri looked at the fruit and felt his gut twist in protest. But food was a precious gift. He couldn't turn it down. Steeling himself, he bit into the fruit. It made a painfully loud crunching sound as his teeth dug into it. The juices, which were normally crisp and sweet, tasted like acid. The fruit itself felt like a chunk of wax sitting on his tongue. He forced himself to chew and swallow. A moment later he could feel the bile rising up in his throat, and he swallowed again to keep from getting sick.

“Don't enjoy it too much now,” Nilcir said with a small smile. “Just eat as much as you can. I'll finish off what you don't eat.”

He attempted to smile in return. While he waited for the pain to pass, he watched Nilcir and his mother work. The more it rained, the more slippery the cliff became. Nilcir slipped while going to retrieve another basket, almost spilling her full one. His mother slipped twice, as she was more preoccupied with watching Kankri than with her surroundings. 

“Are you sure you don't want to go back to camp, dear?” she kept asking.

Every time she spoke, it felt as though she'd thrown a rock at his head. Every single time she asked, he would cringe and nod. “Yes, Mother, I just need to sit.”

He was becoming more and more irritated with his mother. His replies became very curt and irritated. At one point he shouted, “I'M _FINE_!” The hurt look on his mother's face felt even worse than the pain in his temple. Shortly afterwards, he got back to his feet and went back to work. The silence between the three was tense. Kankri had never shouted at his mother before. Or at anyone, really. 

_She was just worried_ , Kankri thought, mentally chastising himself. _What did I have to go and yell at her for_? 

He glanced over at Porrim, wondering if she still had that awful sad look on her face. But when he looked at her, his entire body went cold.

Porrim was standing right next to the edge of the cliff.

“Mother!” he shouted. She looked up immediately. “Mother, I-”

His mother took two steps toward him, then slipped. She fell. 

“NO!” he screamed, running to the edge. He slipped on the stony ground and almost went over the edge himself. But Nilcir reached out and grabbed him by the back of his shirt, saving his life. He watched his mother hit the ground below. A loud _WHAM_ echoed through the air. Kankri screamed so loud he thought his head was going to split in half. Nilcir pulled him away from the edge and enveloped him in a tight hug. Or perhaps she was just trying to keep him from staring at his mother's broken form lying far below them. 

“Shhh, little one, shhh...” she said, attempting to soothe him the way Porrim had always done. 

Moments later, the rest of the foraging group ran up. 

“What happened?” one of them asked. “We heard a scream.”

“Porrim slipped and went over the edge,” Nilcir told them. She lifted Kankri off the ground and handed him to one of the other trolls. Candy red tears were gathering in his eyes, and his face was frozen in a look of pure horror. “Take him back to camp.”

*

Kankri couldn't stop crying. His head was still killing him, but none of that mattered now. His mother was gone. Dead. What was he going to do without her? Sure, he still had the rest of the Tribe. But none of them could take her place. Mother was one of a kind. She was beautiful and wise and everything he aspired to be. Kankri would be completely lost without her. All he could manage to do was lay in their tent and cry into one of her cloaks. It smelled like her still, and that offered him a bit of solace.

Someone brought him dinner, but he didn't touch it. He didn't want to eat now or ever again. He wanted to die and be with Mother. If they tried to make him eat, he'd run to the cliff and jump over the edge. 

The Tribe wanted to send a group out to recover Porrim's body. They couldn't leave her remains behind. If someone found them, it would seem odd. And that could pose a risk to the rest of the the Tribe. Getting her remains wouldn't be easy, however, and daylight was approaching fast. It was decided that it would have to be done the next night. They also decided to allow Kankri to be by himself for a little while; he needed time to cope with the death of his custodian. 

The next night, after the group had departed to retrieve Porrim's remains, Kankri was visited by Lacene. She was the only jade blood in the Tribe now that his mother was gone. Perhaps the Council had decided she would be his replacement custodian. She and his mother were very similar in many respects. They were both very beautiful and dignified. They both liked the sunlight. They had both fled the underground caverns for one reason or another. But an aura of mystery and danger followed Lacene wherever she went, and Kankri had always feared her. It didn't help that her skin would glow whenever she was angry, which only added to her strangeness.

“Hello, Kankri,” she said, kneeling down. “I see you have not eaten your breakfast. Or your dinner, for that matter.”

Kankri didn't respond. He buried his face in his mother's cloak, allowing her comforting scent to wash over him.

“You know rations are tight right now, Kankri. You should not waste food,” Lacene said. Her words were chiding, but her tone was gentle. “You need to eat.”

He shook his head. “I'm not eating ever again.”

“Starving yourself will do you no good,” Lacene sighed. “I know you are upset about Porrim. But I am certain everything will work itself out.”

Kankri glared at her. “She's dead! How is that going to work itself out?!”

She smiled faintly. “You would be surprised.”

“Get out!” he hissed. “I don't want to talk to you! I don't want to talk anyone! I just want to lay in here until I die!”

Lacene sighed again, but did not protest. She got up to leave the tent. But, as she stepped out, she paused and looked back. “Kankri, have you ever heard the saying 'the Handmaid always leaves her work behind'?”

“No,” he said, frowning.

“It means that Death does not take its victims bodies when it takes their breath,” Lacene said. “Think on that.”

With that, she walked out.

*

The search party returned empty-handed. They reported that they had gone to the exact place where Porrim had fallen, led by Nilcir. But when they got there, no body could be found. After searching high and low, they'd decided that her remains had been consumed by some huge beast. With that business settled for them, there was only one thing left to attend to. And that was Kankri. A gathering was called to discuss what would be done with him. He was forced to attend, though he refused to eat the food they tried to make him eat.

“As all of you know,” Jupaza said, speaking up first, “Porrim is gone. And she left behind a rather big problem for the rest of us.”

“Wow, Jupaza, you're so compassionate,” Kennoe growled. “The wriggler isn't a problem, he's one of us.”

“Even so,” Jupaza snapped, “someone has to watch after him. That person will become his new custodian, and they will be completely responsible for him.”

“I don't want a new custodian!” Kankri snarled. “I don't want anyone!”

Everyone acted as though they had not heard him, though a handful of trolls cast him sympathetic looks. Sanuor spoke up, looking at Kankri with pity. “I could watch after him.”

“Or me,” Kennoe said. 

Kankri loved both Kennoe and Sanuor. Sanuor always had good stories to tell, and he had never been anything but nice to him. Kennoe, meanwhile, was crazy, fun, and always up for anything. But in that moment he hated both of them. Did they think they could take his mother's place? 

“I don't want either of you!” he growled. 

Before anyone could stop him, Kankri jumped up and ran back to his tent. He fell down on to his sleeping pile and pulled his mother's cloak over his head. Thankfully, no one attempted to come after him. They allowed him to stay in his tent and cry himself out in peace. No one even attempted to bring him more food. Perhaps they'd decided to stop wasting rations on him.

All he could think about was his Mother. How he'd snapped at her before she fell. How she looked so broken and small lying at the foot of the cliff. How he couldn't even kiss her goodbye because some giant monster slithered out during the day and snatched her away. Kankri hoped the Handmaid came for him too. That way he could see his Mother again and tell her how sorry he was. He loved her so much, and he couldn't live without her.

Kankri cried himself to sleep for the second night in a row. He was exhausted, and slept without dreaming. 

A soft touch on his cheek woke him up. His eyes fluttered open, only to see his mother kneeling beside him. 

“Mother...” he whispered. 

She smiled. It was really, truly her. Her clothes were dirty and her skin was glowing like the sun. But none of that mattered. What mattered was that she was here. Kankri grinned and threw his arms around her neck. Porrim wrapped her arms around him tightly and set her chin on the top of his head.

“Did the Handmaid bring you to say goodbye?” he whispered into her shoulder.

“No, sweetie,” she said. “The Handmaid didn't get to take me this time.”

Kankri grinned and hugged her tighter. “I love you. I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Porrim asked, running her hand through his hair. 

“I yelled at you,” he said. “And then you fell and I thought you were gone forever and I never said sorry and I'm really really really sorry and I love you so much-”

The tears were coming to his eyes again. His mother kissed his forehead and shushed him gently. “Kanny, sweetie, it's alright. I'll always come back to you. Always.”

Kankri buried his face in her neck. “How about you just never ever leave again. Ever.”

His mother smiled. “I promise.”

“You're all glowy,” Kankri said, as if he were noticing for the first time. “Why are you all glowy?”

“I'm not sure,” Porrim admitted, looking at her hand. “But I think I may be a rainbow drinker like Lacene.”

“What's a rainbow drinker?” Kankri asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

She smiled and kissed his cheek. “It means that I glow like a star and I can drink troll blood if I want. They're very rare and a lot of people think they're dangerous. But I don't want you to be afraid of me, alright?”

“You can drink my blood if you want,” Kankri said. Fearing his Mother hadn't even crossed his mind. If she could love a mutantblood, then he could love a rainbow drinker. “Though I don't know if I'd taste good.”

Porrim chuckled, happy her charge hadn't shied away from her. “I bet you'd taste just like candy.”

Suddenly, Kankri felt his stomach growl. “...Mother?”

“Hm?” His mother raised her eyebrows.

“I'm really hungry,” Kankri said. 

She smiled slightly and kissed his forehead. “I'll let you have some of my food tomorrow. I don't think I'll be needing it.”


	6. Bravery

Porrim's return came as a surprise to everyone but Lacene, who had suspected from the start that she was a rainbow drinker in the making. But her revival was quickly forgotten. The rationing crisis had only worsened. The area was practically barren in terms of game, and the foraging parties had just about exhausted all other forms of food. They had food preserved and stored away for such occasions, but it wouldn't last long. The Council called together a meeting, and it was decided that they had reached a state of emergency.

In states of emergency, the Tribe had only one option: send a group to the closest city to get supplies.

There was a lot of talk and debate as to how many people should go. Sending a small group lessened the chances of anyone being caught, but the supplies they came back with would be limited. Buying large quantities of anything could attract unwanted attention. Sending a large group greatly increased their chances of intake, but it came with its own dangers. It was decided to send a group of ten to the nearest city. Only trolls with no visible mutations could go, which ruled out Porrim. (Lacene still had not managed to teach her how to turn off her rainbow drinker light.)

Jupaza suggested that Kankri accompany them, as he needed to prove himself and there was nothing visually wrong with him. Plus it was easier for a wriggler to go unnoticed. This idea was met with vehement argument from Porrim's end of the discussion, and she forbade Kankri from setting foot outside their camp.

The group of ten was eventually decided, and they prepared to set off.

Kankri watched them prepare to leave. He only just barely understood the situation. His friends were marching off into some dangerous place in a desperate attempt to save the rest of their people. But what he didn't understand was why it was so dangerous.

"Mother?" he said, looking up at her. "Where are they going?"

"Pavbem," Porrim replied. "It is the city closest to this camp."

"What's so dangerous about it?" he asked. The group of ten was in the process of assembling all the needed supplies. They each had a worn leather pack and some sort of weapon in their hand. "Why don't we ever go there?"

Porrim frowned. All Kankri had ever known was the Tribe. He had grown up among mutants, convicts, and felons of many different colors and hues. To him, it was normal. She wasn't sure if he would understand any explanation she would give. "Kanny, regular trolls don't live like we do. They live in hives, and always stay in one place."

"I know that," Kankri said, surprising her. "I dreamed about that. And there's big hivestems in the cities where a bunch of trolls live together at once. Mituna lived in one. But why is it dangerous?"

She stared at her charge in complete shock. Did his fantasies really tell him all that...? No, no that was impossible. Kennoe probably told him. Shaking off her surprise, Porrim continued. "Well, there are drones. They're giant robots that go around killing people if they look sick, or hurt, or weak. There's threshecutioners, and they keep the peace in big cities like Pavbem. They get all of their orders from the High Thresher, who takes their orders directly from the Empress. And there's subjuggalators. They're unpredictable, because they just do what they think is funny."

Kankri's eyes were wide with horror. "People kill each other...just because?"

"I...yes," Porrim said with a sigh. "And if you're low on the hemospectrum, you are even more of a target."

"What's the hemospectrum?" Kankri asked, furrowing his brow. "My dream friends mention it all the time but they never say what it is, or why it's so important."

His mother didn't seem to know how to answer him. She explained it the best she could, and told him how it was arranged. Porrim even went through each caste and detailed some of the jobs they might be assigned in order to give Kankri a better idea of what each blood color did. But at the end of her long explanation, he only looked more confused.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Porrim frowned.

"Where am I on the hemospectrum?" Kankri stared up at her, and his mother felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. Her little one knew that he was a mutant, but he'd never truly understood what that meant. He didn't realize just how alone and out-of-place he was.

"You...erm. Let's go say goodbye to everyone, alright?" Porrim suggested, grabbing his hand. They approached the group just as Kennoe was handing out berries to everyone. The sight of them made Kankri's stomach growl. All he'd eaten that night was an uncooked root.

Kennoe looked around at the others very seriously. "You all know what to do with these if you get caught."

The others nodded solemnly, tucking the berries away for safe-keeping.

"Can I have some?" Kankri asked. His hunger was getting the best of him. The berries were bright red, and looked very plump and juicy.

Kennoe looked down and quickly tucked her share away. "Nah, these are for adventurers only. But don't worry. I'll bring you back something even better. Ever had cake before, nubs? It's the best thing on Alternia. And I'm gonna bring you back one that's just for you."

He grinned. "Promise?"

"Promise." She smirked and rubbed his head.

Kankri had no idea what cake was or what it would taste like, but he was excited. Then his eyes fell on the sickles strapped to Kennoe's belt. Before, they'd triggered multiple visions. But now they just left him feeling hollow inside. He remembered everything that his mother had said about why the city was dangerous, though much of it didn't make sense to him. She'd mentioned threshecutioners as one of the many dangers; Kankri had heard that word before. Kennoe once told him she used to be one. If she was one of them, how could they possibly be bad?

"You eying my sickles, nubs?" Kennoe asked, arching an eyebrow. "They're pretty cool, huh?"

He shrugged. In some of his visions, he'd been holding a sickle. But it always felt wrong. Like it was somehow unnatural for him to hold a weapon.

Suddenly, Kennoe pulled one of her sickles off her belt and handed it to him. "Here; it's yours. You need a weapon anyway."

Kankri looked up at his mother, but she didn't say anything. Perhaps she agreed with Kennoe for once. He held the sickle up and looked at it in the moonlight. The blade was made from a black metal, and Kennoe's symbol had been inscribed on the teal-colored handle. The weapon seemed to smile cruelly at him. He realized at once that he didn't want this gift, but refusing it might hurt Kennoe's feelings. And he still felt bad about snapping at her when his mother died. So he just smiled and thanked her.

"No problem," Kennoe said, smirking. "You'll be a real killer when you're older."

The comment was meant to encourage him. But Kankri only felt sick. "Ok."

"Are we ready?" Persei, one of the ten chosen to head into the city, asked.

Kennoe nodded. "Let's move out!"

The Tribe watched as they disappeared down the path. If they did not return in seven nights, the Tribe was to pack up and head to their next camp. It was too early in the sweep to move, but if the entire group was compromised it was their only hope of survival.

*

Five nights after the ten departed, six of them came back. They'd managed to get a decent amount of food, and the Tribe ate a bit better than they had before. Kankri watched eagerly as the group unloaded their precious treasures of food. But Kennoe was not among them.

"Where is Kennoe?" he asked Jupaza, as she had been one of the six that returned.

Jupaza frowned. "I don't know. We had to split up before we entered the city. We couldn't be seen together. It would have attracted too much attention. Now run along- I have work to do."

He did as he was told, mostly because Jupaza scared him a bit. The next night he watched the path eagerly. One more troll returned, but Kennoe was nowhere to be found. It began to dawn on Kankri that she and the two other missing trolls might not be coming back. The Council was murmuring about finding a replacement for her. Kankri took to sitting near the path and watching, the sickle she gave him strapped to his hip.

Two nights later, Kennoe and one of the missing trolls returned. Kankri was the first to spot them coming up the path. He noticed what looked like a large, jerking shadow coming towards him. His first thought was that it was some sort of monster. He started to yell for his mother, then paused and grabbed his sickle. Ever since Kennoe gave him the weapon, his mother had encouraged him to practice with it and rely on it. She wanted him to be able to defend himself. Kankri held the sickle tightly in his hand, the fear building with each step the shadow took.

As it got closer, Kankri realized it wasn't a monster at all. It was Kennoe and the troll Persei. They were leaning on each other for support. Kennoe was limping, and teal blood was pouring from a wound in her arm. Persei looked no better. She was bleeding all over, and seemed ready to drop. Both of them were half-blind with bubbly-looking welts on their arms, face, and necks. In their desperation to reach the camp, they had traveled during the day. It saved them time, but left their vision horribly marred and gave them both awful cases of sun poisoning.

"THEY'RE BACK!" Kankri shouted over his shoulder at the camp, then ran to help. The injuries were for more gruesome up close. At first he'd thought Kennoe had a broken leg. But now he saw that one of her knees looked...crushed.

"Hey, nubs," Kennoe said, smiling. "I'd know that voice anywhere..."

"What happened?" Kankri asked, attempting to help them into the camp. But before Kennoe could answer, she collapsed. Persei went down with her. Kankri screamed for help, and a group of adult trolls came running.

They carried the two back into camp. Despite their injuries, both of them had managed to come back with packs full of food. Kankri was tasked to unload them while the others helped Kennoe and Persei to their tents. He was happy to have some sort of distraction. Persei's pack was full of different cuts of meat and some foods in metal cynlinders that he'd never seen before. Kennoe's pack was similarly filled, aside from one item. It was carefully placed at the top in a strange white box. Curious, Kankri opened it.

It was some sort of food in the shape of a circle. It was covered in something dark brown. Kankri dipped his finger in it and licked it. It tasted sweet, warm, and rich. He smiled a little.

Kennoe hadn't forgotten his cake.

*

When the two trolls regained consciousness, they explained what had happened. A group of threshecutioners had recognized Kennoe as a criminal and suspected feral. They followed her and watched her meet up with Persei outside the city gates. They attacked them. Together they managed to fight them off, but two of their attackers escaped and went back to the city. Certain that they had gone back for reinforcements and intended to track the two down, the Council made the decisions to pick up the camp and move the next night.

Sadly, they wouldn't get the chance.

Kankri awoke just after sunset. He stared around at the tent groggily, trying to figure out why he had woken up. His mother was crouching near the entrance, her face tense. She was listening to something. Slowly, Kankri crawled over and sat beside her. Something – or someone – was outside.

After a moment, he heard it too.

Rustling in the forest. Leaves being crunched, branches moving, something that sounded like water splashing on the ground. Kankri knew immediately it wasn't someone from within the Tribe. Everyone knew how to travel quickly and silently through the forest. It was one of the first things Kankri had ever learned.

There was a voice, but he couldn't make out the words. He looked to his mother. Ever since her transformation, her hearing had been sharpened.

"What did they say?" he whispered.

She didn't answer. After a few moments of silence she said, "Get ready to run."

Kankri grabbed his sickle and strapped it to his hip. It was supposed to make him feel safer, but instead he only felt more anxious.

A rough, unfamiliar voice shouted, "SMOKE 'EM OUT!"

Porrim grabbed Kankri's hand and pulled him out of the tent. Others had been awakened by the cry and were emerging, confused and holding weapons. Kankri looked around for the loud strangers. But in a few moments all he could see nothing but a wall of fire all around the camp. It seemed to spring up out of nowhere, immediately trapping them.

"Oil!" Porrim hissed, holding Kankri closed. "They were putting down oil..."

The Tribe was in a frenzy. They went for the jugs of water and began to throw them on the flames, trying to make an opening. But the water had no effect on the fire at all. The fire began to spread inward, engulfing tents and baskets and anything else it could reach. A tree near the center of camp began to burn. All around him was nothing but fire and chaos. His mother was pulling him through the camp, attempting to find some way of escaping.

"Mother, I'm scared!" he shouted, gripping her hand tightly. The smoke was choking the air and making it difficult to breathe. When he looked up, the stars and moons were hidden in a black haze.

"I know, sweetie, I know," she said. Porrim knelt down and set her hands on his shoulders. "But I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me?"

Kankri nodded, though he wasn't sure. "I'll be brave."

The tribe was in a frenzy. Some of them were taking their chances and leaping through the flames in an attempt to escape. Some were climbing trees that weren't yet burning and attempting to leap over the wall of fire that way, risking breaking their legs in the process. And then there was the added danger of the threshecutioners, who had most assuredly tracked them down and set the fire. The food that they had risked everything for was burning in the storage tent. Kankri thought of his cake sitting in their tent. He'd had one slice of it before he fell asleep, and he wondered if it was the last thing he'd ever eat.

Suddenly, he remembered Kennoe.

Her leg had been injured when she returned, and she hadn't been able to walk well. How would she escape? She wouldn't. Not without help.

Kankri broke away from his mother's grasp and began to run towards Kennoe's tent.

"KANKRI!" Porrim yelled. "COME BACK!"

The smoke was everywhere. He could barely see anything. Trolls became nothing but dark silhouettes. Kankri had to cover his nose and mouth with his shirt, otherwise he couldn't breathe. His eyes stung and the heat was intense. When he finally stumbled up to Kennoe's tent, it was nothing but a collapsed pile of kindling. He prayed that she wasn't inside when it fell.

He turned back to find his mother. Kankri was sure that he would be able to see her light through the smoke, but instead he saw only darkness and red flame.

"MOTHER!" he yelled. "MOTHER!"

No answer. All he could hear was the crackling of the fire and distant yelling. The flames were getting closer, and threatened to engulf the entirety of the camp. He had to find a way out, and quickly. Or else the smoke and fire would overcome him. Kankri ran blindly through the smoke, trying to find some way of escape. But the fire seemed to be everywhere. No matter where he turned, it was there.

_The river_ , he thought. _I'll be safe at the river_.

But getting there would be a trial in itself. He went towards the direction he thought was east. As expected, he was met with a wall of fire much taller than himself. There was no way to go over it or around it. Kankri would be forced to jump through it. He backed away to give himself a running start, but stopped short of jumping.

"Be brave," he murmured as he backed away again. "I have to be brave..."

Kankri ran at the wall of fire, covering his face with his arm. He jumped through. The heat was intense, but was gone in a split second. When he was through, he was forced to yank off his cloak. It had received the worst of the flames, and was still burning. His shirt sleeve was on fire as well, but he managed to beat it out. The pain in his arm told him that it had left a burn. That was a problem for later. Aside from that and some slight singing of the hair, he was unharmed.

He wasn't safe yet, however.

The fire was blazing through the forest uncontrollably. The path was still relatively clear, but he had to get to the river. And quickly. Kankri sprinted down the path, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve. There was no sign of anyone in the Tribe. He kept his eyes peeled for the threshecutioners who set the fire, but it was difficult to see through the smoke. Perhaps they had already gone to hunt down what remained of his Tribe. They wouldn't get Mother, though. They wouldn't be able to catch her. Kankri was sure of it.

He kept running. The fire was moving quickly, faster than he could manage. But if he could survive until he reached the river...once he hit the river, he'd be safe.

It came into view after fifteen minutes of solid sprinting. His legs were about to give in, and his breathing was labored. But the sight of sweet, life giving water was enough to give him one final burst of energy. Kankri threw himself into the water with a loud splash. After running through the heat and smoke and ash, the water felt like heaven. It was cool and clear. He splashed his face and head, cleaning the ash off his skin.

"Freeze."

The voice came from in front of him. He slowly looked across to the other side of the river. A threshecutioner was standing there. In the red light of the fire, Kankri could see that his eyes were as blue as the river itself.

"Come here," he said.

Kankri slowly got to his feet. He could run, but he was exhausted from running. The threshecutioner obviously wasn't. So, slowly, he walked through the water and went towards him. The troll was tall, with shaggy black hair and horns that sloped back over the top of his head. He was in a threshecutioner uniform. Or, Kankri assumed that was what it was. It was a cleanly pressed black shirt and black pants. The buttons on the shirt were gold, and he had an assortment of pins on his left breast. One of them was a fuchsia symbol. One was a silver medal that showed a hand gripping a sickle.

"What does that medal mean?" Kankri asked when he reached the opposite bank. He knew that he was in grave danger. This troll was probably going to kill him. Yet he felt the need to ask. It might be one of the last things he ever saw; he might as well know what it meant.

The threshecutioner looked at the medal in question. He frowned, but answered. "It means I was the second in my class at the Academy."

"Oh," Kankri said. He didn't know what the Academy was, but he didn't think he should ask. "Are you going to kill me?"

The threshecutioner didn't answer. He looked Kankri over, apparently troubled. "How old are you?"

"I'm three sweeps old," Kankri said. "...well. Three and a half."

"Three and a half," the troll repeated to himself. He put his fist to his mouth, apparently contemplating something. Then his eyes went to the sickle on Kankri's hip. "...do you even know how to use that thing, youngling?"

"Kinda..." Kankri said. He'd attempted to use it like his mother said, but it just didn't feel right.

The troll sighed heavily. "Get out of here."

Kankri froze. He stared at the threshecutioner in shock, not comprehending what he said. Was he really going to let him go?

"I said get out of here!" the threshecutioner snapped. "Go! Before I come to my senses!"

Kankri didn't need to be told again. He hurried down the bank as fast as his exhausted legs would carry him. After a while he moved away from the bank and began to look for a place to hide from the sun's rays. The sun would be coming up soon. He found sanctuary in the form of a cave. It was dark and seemed devoid of beasts, but Kankri was too exhausted to check. He stumbled in and curled up in one of the corners. It took time for sleep to find him. He kept thinking about the threshecutioner that had allowed him to escape. The troll had saved his life, and Kankri didn't even know his name. He thought of Kennoe again, and wondered if she had ever known him.

_If everyone out there is like them_ , Kankri thought, _maybe the world isn't as dangerous as Mother said_.

Shortly thereafter, Kankri's eyes slipped closed. He dreamed of an island palace and a storm of meteors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fantroll featured in this chapter is Persei, who belongs to Techhead Lusus!


	7. Meulin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!

When Kankri awoke, he found himself face-to-face with another troll. Startled, he screamed and scrambled away. The other troll screamed as well, moving to press her back against the opposite wall of the cave. Once she had moved back a bit, he was able to get a better look at her. She was around his age, perhaps a bit older. Her hair was long, tangled, and matted. She was very thin and her clothes were ragged. She was dirty from horns to toes. But even through the grime, Kankri recognized her face almost immediately.

"...Meulin?" he said.

The troll tilted her head to the side. There was no mistaking it. She was one of the trolls from his dreams and his visions. She was one of his dream friends.

"Is that your name?" he asked. "Meulin?"

She nodded slowly. "Who...who are you?"

"My name is Kankri." he said. Could it really be her? Had he been dreaming about real trolls this entire time? It was true that Porrim looked like a young version of his mother, and they shared the same name. But they couldn't actually be the same troll. Could they? Why had he been dreaming about actual people? Why did they show up in his visions? What connection did he have with them? How did he know them? There were a million questions rushing through his head, but he doubted this other little troll had any of the answers he needed.

Neither one of them seemed to know what to do. Meulin still had her back pressed against the wall. Her eyes were locked on him, waiting for him to make a move. Suddenly he realized that her eyes were mostly focused on the sickle at his hip. Slowly Kankri reached for it, then tossed it on the ground in between them. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

"Then I won't hurt you," Meulin replied. She seemed to relax slightly now that he was unarmed. "How did you know my name?"

"I had dreams about you," Kankri said. "And a bunch of other trolls. I didn't think...I don't know what to think now. It's so weird."

"You're weird." Meulin furrowed her brow in confusion. "And your dreams sound weird too."

He smiled slightly. Well, he couldn't deny that. Half of the time his dreams didn't make any sense. At least, they didn't seem to when he woke up. Every night when he opened his eyes, there were little thoughts still floating in his head. The remnants of his dreams. They were words like Skaia, Prospit, the Scratch. He'd always grasp for their meaning, but it always slipped through his fingers like water. Part of him felt like understanding his dreams would lead to some important discovery. And now that he knew that at least one of his dream friends was real, that idea wouldn't get out of his head.

"They're really weird," Kankri admitted. "I don't really understand them. But I think they're important. Somehow."

"Maybe they are. Or you could be crazy." Meulin's remark wasn't necessarily unkind. It was as though she were musing on two different theories. "Still. It's kinda cool that you knew my name. It's like you've got futuresight or something. Maybe that's what your dreams are- they're the future!"

He hadn't ever considered that before. He thought back to the vision he had just moments his mother died. Porrim had died in the same way his mother had. Of course, she had been fighting off imps when she fell. His mother had simply slipped.

But the similarities were uncanny. Had it been a vision of the future?

"Maybe. I guess they told me I'd eventually meet you," Kankri said, still uncertain.

"See? You can see the future." Meulin seemed pleased with herself at solving the mystery. She diverted her attention to his sickle, still lying in the cave floor. After glancing at him for permission, she picked it up to examine it. "Are you a teal blood?"

"Oh. No. I'm-" Kankri caught himself. He was no longer with the Tribe, where mutations were common. What would she say if she knew he was a mutant? Would she still like him? For now, at least, he'd play it safe. "I'm a red blood."

"How'd you get this?" Meulin asked, turning it over in her hand. "Did you kill someone for it?"

Kankri was horrified at the very idea. "What? No! It was a present."

"Who gave it to you?" Meulin asked, tilting her head to the side.

"My friend. Her name is Kennoe." Suddenly he felt as though he had been hit in the stomach. He'd almost forgotten...the fire. The threshecutioners. Had she gotten away? Had anyone? What about his mother? Was she out there, looking for him still? He was suddenly hyperaware of the burn on his arm. Last night, in all the confusion and the dash to get to safety, he'd forgotten about it. Now that the adrenaline had died down, he was beginning to feel the pain. Slowly, he rolled up his sleeve. The burn started a little bit away from his wrist and stretched halfway down his forearm. It was nothing more than a shiny patch of slightly swollen skin. But it hurt.

"You got caught up in that fire," Meulin said quietly. "That looks like it hurts."

"A little," Kankri agreed.

Meulin crawled over to get a better look at it. "How'd you get it?"

He told her the story of how he escaped the fire. The story seemed to captivate her. Kankri went into detail about the wall of fire, at least three times taller than himself. He told her about the split second of extreme heat, and about the fire that clung to his sleeve and cloak. In fact, she seemed so entranced by the story that he found himself talking about the mad dash to the river. He described the burning trees and bushes, and the smoke that choked out the stars. Kankri stopped short of telling her about the threshecutioner. Somehow that felt like something he should not (or perhaps could not) share with her. Not yet. It seemed as though that act of mercy was a private moment between him and the nameless troll. Something kept him from speaking about it, though perhaps one day he would tell someone. Just how he might eventually tell someone about the visions that always accompanied his fainting spells. But not yet.

At the end of the story, Meulin grinned from ear to ear. "You're really good at telling stories. Do you have anymore?"

"Not off the top of my head," he said with an apologetic smile. "I don't have many interesting stories like that one. But I bet you do."

She stared at him with a look of mild confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You live in a cave and you look completely wild. That sounds like a story in itself. Why do you sleep out here? Don't you have a hive?" Kankri had learned long ago that most trolls his age didn't live the way he did. Their work consisted of caring for their lusus, and they bought their food at stores. They lived in one place all sweep round. He presumed that it was the norm, and never considered that he might not be the only exception to the rule.

A dark look passed over Meulin's face. She looked away. "I used to. But then my lusus died, and I had to hide. I didn't want to get culled."

So she'd lived out in the wild ever since. Kankri wondered when that had happened. Poor Meulin's clothes were nothing but rags. She didn't have any shoes, and her feet were dirty and cut up. Her hands were smeared with what he could only assume was beast blood. She had a slight and lithe build, but was much thinner than she should have been. How long had it been since she'd even seen a troll? Was he the first conversation she'd had in perigees?

Kankri couldn't imagine living out in the wild alone. Especially since Meulin had known the comforts and happiness of a hive. She was very brave, and very tough.

"What about you?" she asked suddenly. "Did your lusus and hive burn up in the fire? If they did, you can live in the cave with me. I won't mind."

"No. I never really had a hive," Kankri admitted. "Or a lusus. My custodian is a troll. We live with a bunch of other trolls out in the wild. We work together to keep everyone fed and move from place to place."

A shocked look came over his new friend's face. "You...you're a feral? A real, actual feral?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I guess so. But you kind of are, too. You just don't live with others like I do."

"Yeah, but you're a _real_ feral like the ones in the stories! They live in groups and hunt down trolls and lusii to eat. Do you do that?" Meulin seemed strangely excited by the idea of meeting a 'savage' troll. It actually sort of offended him. Did he really look like a cannibal?

"What? No!" Kankri replied indignantly. "We don't do any of that! We work, we eat, we sleep. And then we move. And then we do it all again."

She seemed a bit disappointed. "Oh...well. Where are they? The other ferals?"

That was a fantastic question. He had absolutely no idea. There had been so much panic and chaos, he didn't know where everyone had gone. They had simply scattered, which was perhaps the threshecutioner's plan all along. It was easy to pick off trolls when they were scared and desperate and alone.

"Our camp got burned last night," he said quietly. "And there were all of these threshecutioners...I don't know where everyone is. I got separated from the others."

Meulin frowned slightly. She pressed one of her fingers against her nose, as if it would somehow help her think. Finally she said, "Well, where would you go?"

He thought about it. His first instinct was to go back to the camp. But his better judgment made him balk at the idea. The fire most likely hadn't burned itself out yet. Even if it had, there wouldn't be much left. The tents would be piles of ash. The food would be gone. The water had been used in a desperate attempt to stop the fire. There may be a few spare tools or weapons that survived, but they wouldn't be worth the trip back. Plus it was possible the threshecutioners would be waiting for them, ready to finish off the ones who escaped.

No, no one would even think of heading back to the camp. Too much risk, not enough payoff. Plus the area was completely ruined. They hadn't been able to sustain themselves on that land to begin with. Now that it was burned to the ground, it would be impossible to live there. Not to mention unsafe. Threshecutioners knew exactly where the camp was, which meant they could never return there again.

"I'd go to our next camp of the sweep," Kankri said.

"That's probably where they'll be then!" Meulin smiled slightly. "Where is it?"

"Far from here," Kankri said quietly. He knew the way. For the most part. If he followed the river he would eventually find the place where they would cross and begin to head north. Then he could hopefully rely on his memory to get him there. "It'll take maybe...ten nights to get there."

Meulin nodded slowly. "That _is_ a long way."

Suddenly, he had an idea. Meulin had been living all alone for who knew how long. She had no home, no custodian. It didn't seem right to leave her by herself in a half-burned wasteland.

"What if you come with me?" Kankri suggested.

"What do you mean?" She frowned slightly and tilted her head to one side.

Kankri got to his feet and grinned. "You can come with me to the camp, and then you can live with the Tribe. You can be a real feral."

Her eyes lit up like stars. She smiled from ear to ear. "Really? Would- would they let me?"

That he couldn't say for certain. His mother had once told him the story about their admittance to the Tribe. (Kankri couldn't remember it, as he'd only been a grub at the time.) It was a grueling process of debate, and if someone was turned down they weren't sent away. They were killed. But what would keep them from letting her in? "I'm sure they will."

With that, it was decided. Together they would set out towards the Tribe's camp that very night. Meulin had nothing to bring with her, save for a few crude weapons that she'd made from stone and wood. Kankri only had the clothes on his back and the sickle at his hip. With any luck, his guess had proven correct and they would find his people waiting for them. Then they could start picking up the pieces and building their lives anew.

*

They went straight to the river. Across it, the fire was still burning. Since it could no longer move forward, it began to stretch out horizontally. For a moment Kankri stood on the bank and simply stared. Then, without a word, he stepped into the water and began to walk upriver. He insisted it was the best way to do it, since they couldn't leave tracks for any threshecutioners to follow. Meulin seemed nervous about going in the river, but at its deepest it was only waist-high. So she plunged in and fell into step beside him.

"Did you think of another story?" Meulin asked after several minutes of silence. The question surprised her new friend, almost as though he'd forgotten she were there.

Kankri smiled a bit. "Uh, no."

"You said your custodian is a troll. How did that happen? There's gotta be a story in that," Meulin insisted.

She had a point. And he knew the story well enough. His mother had told it to him many times. So, he launched into the story. The only bits he left out were the parts about how he was a mutant. Mother loved to tell him that his mutation was what caught her attention in the first place. He was the only candy red grub in the group, and the only one she'd ever seen before. 'Unique' is what she called him. Special, even.

"She carried me up to the surface, and she said the exit let us out into a desert. And she said there was this huge bright star hanging right above us in the sky," Kankri told her. "She carried me through the desert for a few nights, and then we found the Tribe. They took us in and we've been with them ever since."

Meulin grinned. "You're really cool."

"I'm cool?" Kankri looked at her in disbelief

"Yeah! You live out in the wild and you're a feral and you were a rogue from the start!" Meulin gushed with excitement.

Kankri flushed with embarrassment. "You're a feral and a rogue too!"

"It's not the same. But I look more like a feral than you. You're not dirty enough," Meulin said, looking him over skeptically.

He crossed his arms, being careful not to touch his burn. "I don't see why feral trolls have to be dirty. There are rivers we can take baths in."

"Because that's how it is in the stories," Meulin persisted. Suddenly she smirked devilishly, as though a wicked idea had entered her mind. Slowly she knelt down and plunged her hands into the water. When she stood back up, she was holding two handfuls of mud. Kankri's eyes widened.

"Don't you dare-!" he shouted.

Laughing, Meulin lunged at him and smeared the mud across his face. He attempted to fight her off, but to no avail. The mud was on his cheeks, in his hair, on his horns. Slowly their battle began to turn into a wrestling match. They splashed and laughed and squealed, each one fighting for control. In the end Meulin triumphed and managed to catch Kankri in a headlock. But he used the opportunity to grab a handful of mud. When she released him, he smeared it on her face in retaliation.

"Didn't make much of a difference!" he teased.

"Kankri!" she squealed, grinning delightedly.

He laughed and began to hurry away from her. But the water in the river was still waist-high. There was no such thing as a quick getaway at that point. Meulin tackled him, sending them both underwater. They continued to play for several hours. Neither of them had had another troll to play with before in their entire lives. Having someone their age around was a completely new and delightful experience. By the end of the night they'd only made it to the river crossing that Kankri remembered. But they'd already become best friends by the time they reached it.


	8. The Heiress and the Mutant

"Once upon a time, sweeps and sweeps ago, there was a peaceful Empress. She was beautiful and gentle and kind. And she loved lowbloods. She wanted to take care of them and help them. So that's what she did. All the highbloods did. Trolls were more peaceful then, I think. They helped each other more. Well, one night, a messenger came to the Empress and told her a fuchsia blood had been born. The Empress was very happy, because she wanted to raise the heiress herself so that she would be a kind and loving queen too. Then a second messenger came in and said that a mutantblood had been born in the same brood as the heiress-"

"A mutantblood?" Meulin interrupted him suddenly, raising her eyebrows. "What do you mean a mutantblood?"

He sighed in exasperation and ducked under a tree branch. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"Ok, ok!" Meulin said, ducking under the same branch.

"Since the grub was a mutantblood, there wouldn't be a lusus that would take him. So the Empress ordered that both him and the heiress were to be taken to a big palace on an island. She decided that when the heiress turned three sweeps old, she'd go to the palace and live there so she could train the princess how to be queen," Kankri continued. The path turned upwards, and they began to head up a slope. He recognized the area from the last time they had made the journey. Kankri had only been two sweeps old at the time, but he remembered how his mother struggled to get them both over this hill. She was carrying him on her back, and his arms were wrapped around her neck.

"Did she?" Meulin asked.

"You have to wait till the end of the story!" he answered.

His friend huffed, but didn't say anything else.

"The heiress and the mutant were best friends. They were the only wrigglers on the island. Everyone else was grown, and was a servant," Kankri went on.

"Like you and me!" Meulin interjected.

He glanced back at her and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You said there aren't any other wrigglers in the Tribe. We're going to be the only two. Everyone else is a grown-up troll. And we're best friends. Aren't we?" Meulin smiled brightly at him, and he couldn't help but smile back.

"Of course we're best friends," he said. "Except we're going to have a happy ending."

Meulin froze. "They're not going to have a happy ending?"

"Just listen!" Kankri said, sighing in exasperation. His friend now fell completely silent. He could feel her eyes burrowing into his back as they walked. She didn't want there to be a sad ending, he realized. "When the heiress got to be three sweeps old, the Empress came just like she said. But training to be a queen is a lot of hard work. And the mutant didn't get to see her much anymore. They didn't get to play very much. They both started to become unhappy."

He paused, waiting for her to interrupt. But Meulin was silent.

So, he continued. "The mutant was unhappy because no one would listen to him. He was just someone everyone felt sorry for. They didn't think he could actually do anything. He started to become bitter. Everything and anything made him mad. And the heiress was unhappy because she had no time to herself. It was always work, work, work. She had all these responsibilities that the Empress was giving her, and she didn't feel like she could do it. She just wanted to have fun and do what she wanted to do. So she ran away."

To be honest, Kankri actually wasn't completely sure what happened after that. But he knew from his dreams that it wasn't anything good. For a moment he thought back to his first vision and shuddered. Maybe the story didn't have to have a sad ending. Meulin liked happy endings better anyway.

"...and he went after her," Kankri said. "And he told her that it was ok to be afraid. That being a good and kind Empress of an entire planet is a lot of responsibility. But he knew that she could do it."

"And what did she say?" Meulin asked quietly.

"She said he mattered," Kankri answered. "And they went home."

"Did she become a bad queen?" His friend was suspicious. She was still expecting the sad ending.

"No. She was a great queen. She was greatest empress Befor- Alternia ever had," Kankri said, ending the story. He paused momentarily. What was he going to say? Befor-? He shook his head, forgetting about it. It was just a slip of the tongue.

He could hear the smile in Meulin's voice. "You said the ending was sad!"

"I lied." Kankri glanced back at her, grinning mischievously. "I just wanted you to stop interrupting! It made you listen, didn't it?"

Meulin giggled. "I guess so."

They reached the top of the hill. From there they could see for miles. Kankri looked out, trying to see if he could remember which direction the camp lay in. The land offered him no hints. All he could see was trees and huge hills and empty glades. He racked his brain for some sort of memory, some sort of hint. But he couldn't remember the rest of the way.

Suddenly, Meulin hopped up into the nearest tree and began to climb. She was at the top in a matter of seconds, carefully perched on the highest branch. Kankri stared up at her in awe. He'd been climbing in trees to get fruit for half a sweep now, and he'd never been able to make it up one that fast. He grinned slightly. Meulin was hatched to live in the wild. He was certain of it. A hive just didn't seem to suit her as well as the rugged, untamed wilderness. "Do you see anything?"

She squinted her eyes and scanned the landscape. "I think I see smoke. But I'm not sure. Come up here and look!"

What took Meulin about fifteen seconds took Kankri a good minute and a half. When he finally joined her at the top of the tree, she pointed towards the northeast. "See? Just over that giant hill."

He frowned, craning his neck. "I don't see it."

"Right _there_!" Meulin said, pointing again.

Finally, he saw it. There was just a bit of black smoke rising up from behind one large hill. Whoever had lit the fire was trying to keep it low. That could definitely be the Tribe, or whatever was left of it. He and Meulin climbed down (Or rather, he did; she went halfway down and then jumped, landing nimbly on all fours.) and began to head in the direction of the fire. The climb down the hill was just as steep as the one going up, and they had to struggle not to lose their footing and go rolling down.

"How far away did that fire look?" Kankri asked once they reached more level ground.

"I think it'd take us three nights to get there," Meulin estimated. "Is that where the camp was?"

He thought back, then shook his head. "No. The camp is at the base of some mountains. There's a river that comes down from there, and the water is always nice and cold. We usually only go there when the weather's warm. But we didn't have a choice this time."

"So we're three nights behind them...and we've been walking for four nights...and it takes ten nights to get there..." Meulin put her finger to her nose. Apparently it was a habit of hers to do that whenever she was attempting to think of something. "So they'll reach it in...three nights. And we'll reach it in six? Is that right?"

Kankri nodded. "It sounds right to me. I just hope we're going the right away."

With that decided, they continued on.

*

The longer he traveled with Meulin, the more obvious it was that she had been on her own for quite some time. She was completely self-sufficient. Especially when it came to hunting. At the start of their journey she managed to catch small nut creatures with her bare hands. She was used to eating them raw, but Kankri insisted on making a fire to cook the meat. And while she knew little about covering her tracks or foraging, she was a true creature of the wild. All of her movements were quick and practically silent. Her eyes were sharp, her hearing was keen. She was always on alert. Kankri knew the Tribe was going to love her. She was the perfect feral.

"How do you manage to do that?" he asked as she dropped two nut creatures down beside the fire.

"Do what?" Meulin tilted her head to the side.

"Catch these." Kankri picked up the first beast and began to skin it with his sickle. He'd never been allowed to butcher anything back at the Tribe. They were always afraid he'd have a fainting spell and cut himself on accident. But he had seen it done before, and had a basic idea of what to do.

Meulin sat down next to him and put her feet next to the fire. She wiggled her dirty toes. "My lusus taught me how to do it. Didn't you learn from the other ferals?"

"No," Kankri answered. The business with the nut creature was getting dirty. His hands were covered in light brown blood. It was difficult to separate the meat from such tiny little bones, especially with a tool like a sickle. "They never taught me."

"Why not?" Meulin asked.

The blood was smeared across his palms. It was hot against his skin. And then suddenly he knew that a vision was coming. He tried to look away, tried to fight it off. Of course it was a fruitless effort. In a few seconds his world changed. He was on another strange planet, and he was kneeling beside Rufioh. Brown blood covered the ground. The young troll was horribly injured. He was bleeding from every place imaginable. His body looked twisted and broken in a thousand different places. It hurt to look at the state he was in. Horuss was kneeling beside their injured friend, clutching his hand. Porrim and Aranea stood beside Kankri.

"What happened?" Aranea asked, concerned.

"Damara," Horuss answered gravely.

The vision ended there, thankfully. But Kankri awoke with a migraine and a strong urge to throw up. Meulin was staring down at him with concern and terror.

"Kankri! What's wrong? Are you ok?" She set her hand on his shoulder and helped him sit up. "What happened?"

"Nothing, nothing," he said. "I just...do that, sometimes."

"Fall over like you're dead?!" Meulin frowned at him. "That isn't normal, Kankri! That means...that means you're sick, or something!"

"I'm not sick. It's been happening for a while now," he assured her. "I see certain things and I just...faint. I can't figure out how to stop it. It just keeps happening. But I'm fine. So long as it doesn't happen at a really bad time, I'm fine."

Meulin crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. "What if it does? What if it happened when you were in that fire? You would have burned up!"

He hadn't even thought about that. Sometimes the visions made him go down for several minutes. If he had gone out during the fire, those minutes could have been the difference between living and dying. Suddenly Kankri felt the bile rising up in his throat. He turned his face away from Meulin and vomited. When he was done, he coughed once and shook his head. "I don't want to think about that. I can't control them Meulin, I've tried. Every time I feel it coming on I try to fight it, but it never works."

"I'll help you find a way. Promise," Meulin said.

Kankri wasn't so sure that it was possible. Everyone in the Tribe presumed that his fainting problem stemmed from issues with his blood color, and he agreed with that theory. Unless Meulin found a way to change his genetics, the visions weren't going to be leaving anytime soon.

*

"We're still going in the right direction," Kankri said. He was at the top of a tree, glancing towards the northeast. In the distance he could see the hazy outline of the mountain. Getting there would be easy now. They'd just have to head towards that, and they would find the Tribe. At least, he hoped they would. Every night one of them would scale a tree and look for signs of a fire. But they hadn't seen anything since that first night. "We should be there in another four nights."

He climbed back down and went back over to Meulin, who was sitting beside a small stream. She had a stick in her hand and was drawing something in the soft, moist soil. Kankri stood next to her and watched in silence. She drew a large meowbeast with two mouths and a little wriggler curled up at her side. Kankri realized with a pang of sadness that it was her and her lusus.

"Do you miss her?" he asked, sitting beside her.

Meulin nodded slowly. "I miss her a lot."

He frowned slightly, staring at the drawing. "I'm sorry. I bet she really loved you."

"She did. She was the best lusus ever," Meulin agreed. She sighed and ran her hand over the drawing, erasing it. "But being sad won't bring her back."

"So? You can't help but feel sad. I was sad when I thought I lost my custodian. I cried and cried and I wouldn't eat. You're supposed to be upset when you lose someone you love," Kankri told her.

His friend looked at him, tilting her head to the side in her usual way. "But death is apart of life. We're just supposed to deal with it."

"Says who?" Kankri raised an eyebrow. "If you want to be sad, that's ok."

Meulin smiled a little bit. "I don't think I want to be sad anymore, though. I still miss her. But I'm not alone anymore. I think that's what I hated the most. I hated being alone. It was always so quiet and so cold. I didn't have anyone to talk to or play with. It was just me in that empty cave. I never want to go back to that."

"So long as I'm around, you won't be alone," Kankri said. He grinned and bumped his shoulder against hers. "You're not going to be able to get rid of me."

She laughed and bumped her shoulder back against his. "You're like a parasite."

"Exactly like a parasite," he agreed. "One of the blood-sucking ones."

"You're gross," Meulin said. She crinkled her nose in disgust, but she was still smiling.

"At least my hair doesn't look like a nut creature's nest!" he teased. Before Meulin could react, he hopped to his feet and ran through the stream. That sort of remark was enough to initiate a playfight. But she would have to catch him first.

Meulin ran after him, laughing. "Get back here! I'll show you whose hair is a mess!"

"Come and get me!" he shouted over his shoulder.

Eventually, she did. Kankri paid for his teasing remark by having dirt and mud rubbed into his hair. Then she proceeded to braid in leaves and blades of grass, until Kankri looked just as dirty and wild as her.


	9. The Secret

The closer they got to the camp, the more Kankri recognized. There was the spot where he had napped during the bilunar eclipse. There was the huge tree that produced so much fruit it filled seven baskets. There was where the hunters hung their kills so they could be butchered. There was where his mother and the other weavers used to sit as they made clothes and baskets and patches for damaged tents. They were most assuredly in the right place. And, as they neared the camp, they began to see signs of life. Someone had left a few fishing poles lying under a tree. A few baskets were sitting on a large rock, waiting to be filled with food. The Tribe was here. And they were close.

"Come on!" he said, breaking into a run. Together he and Meulin sprinted up the path. He could hear voices in the forest. Singing, laughing, talking. He could smell the campfires. Home was so close he could taste it. They hurried up a hill, and it all came into view. Kankri stopped, and Meulin did too.

They had made new tents. He counted a little over twenty. Before, there had been well over forty. That left him feeling hollow. Over half of the trolls he had known since he was a grub were gone. Never to be seen again.

The camp was mostly silent. Everyone was out working. There would be a lot of work to be done, he realized. They needed food, they needed weapons, they needed everything. They had to start completely from scratch. It would take a sweep to get back to where they had been before.

With Meulin at his side, he walked slowly into the camp. There were a few fires, most of which had burned down. There was a troll kneeling beside one of them, attempting to restart it. She was hunched over it with a piece of flint. She would strike it against another rock, and the sparks would fly into the little nest of dry grass and moss. Then she would lean down and blow gently, very gently, as fire was weak and shy when it was first born. She'd taught him that. When the fire caught, she sat up and watched it. As it grew, she tossed on larger and larger pieces of kindling. All of her movements were deft and gentle. Purposeful and soft.

"Mother," he said, smiling. It felt like it had been a sweep since he had seen her last. Suddenly Kankri realized just how much he'd missed her.

The back stiffened. Slowly, very slowly, she turned and looked over her shoulder. Then, faster than a normal troll could move, she was on her feet and hugging him tightly. She was crushing him against her chest. His arms wrapped tightly around her, happy to finally be close to her again. After what felt like an eternity, they both let go at the same time.

"I thought you were dead," Porrim said. There were tears in her eyes. "I thought you were dead, Kankri."

The tears surprised him. He couldn't remember the last time he saw his mother cry. It made him want to cry, too. "I'm sorry."

"Never do that again!" Porrim yelled. But her voice wasn't angry. It was full of relief. "Never, ever do that to me again Kankri. Or I swear-"

He hugged her again, silencing her. "I won't go away again. I promise."

Porrim let out a heavy sigh. She wrapped her arms around him again. Dark green tears were rolling down her cheeks. She kissed his forehead and his nose and his cheeks. Then, finally, she let him go again. It was only then did she notice Meulin. She was standing to the side, watching and not knowing what to do. "Kankri, who is this?"

"This is Meulin!" he said, taking his friend by the hand and pulling her closer. "I met her after the fire."

Meulin smiled. "Hi."

"Meulin...Meulin...as in Meulin, your dream friend?" Porrim said, raising an eyebrow. "Kankri, what is going on here? Why did you bring her? And...why are you two absolutely filthy? Look at you! And what is in your hair?"

Kankri grinned sheepishly. He decided not to answer the dream friend question, as he didn't fully understand it himself. "Her lusus died, and so she had to hide from the drones. I fell asleep in her cave after the fire and she found me. She didn't have anywhere else to go, Mother, and she's just like us."

"The decision isn't up to me, Kanny," Porrim said, sighing. She looked at Meulin, scrutinizing her. Her eyes went over her tangled, matted hair, her mud-smeared skin, her untrimmed claws, her ragged clothes, her bare feet. And, in that moment, she realized that this little troll would be a part of her life from then on. Porrim was able to see what the two younglings could not, and would not until they were much older. She sighed, then smiled. "But, if they let her in...she'll have a place in our tent."

*

"Hold still!" Kankri hissed, rubbing the poultice into Meulin's hair. She didn't have much left to wash. Porrim had decided that the majority of her hair could not be salvaged, and cut it. It was simply too matted and tangled to save. Meulin hissed in return and crossed her arms over her chest. Kankri kept rubbing the mixture into her hair. Once he was done, he rubbed what remained on to her horns. They'd found that the poultice not only cleaned hair, but also made horns shinier and healthier-looking.

"Am I done yet?" Meulin whined. "This water is cold!"

"If you hold still, you'll be done faster," Porrim said. She was standing on the bank drying off. While the two little ones attempted to clean themselves up, she'd taken the opportunity to take a bath of her own.

"See?" Kankri said. "Now dunk your head."

Meulin held her breath and went under. A few moments later she resurfaced, scrubbing the last of the herbs out of her hair. It looked clean now, at the very least. When they'd gotten in the river her hair had been practically green.

"Are we done now?" she said, teeth chattering.

"Almost," Kankri said, grabbing two rags off the bank. He tossed one to her. He started to clean off his face, using the rag to scrub off the mud and dirt. Meulin followed his example. Kankri tried to work quickly and thoroughly, as the river water really was freezing cold. His toes felt a little numb. When they were done, both trolls scrambled out of the water. Porrim was dressed and waiting for them, holding a towel in each hand.

Kankri took it gratefully and began to dry off. A few other trolls walked past and began to strip down for their own baths. He barely gave them a second glance. Nudity was nothing new to him. The trolls of the Tribe bathed whenever they had down time, and often they did so in front of others. Meulin paused and glanced back at them. She looked from the bathers, to Porrim, then back to the bathers.

"Am I going to have those too?" she asked, glancing down at her chest.

"Have what?" Kankri asked, looking over.

Porrim chuckled and set a hand on each of their shoulders. "Never mind about that. Come on; you two can't run around naked all night."

"Race you back to camp!" Kankri said, looking at Meulin.

"You're on!" she replied, smirking.

Within seconds both wrigglers were racing up the trail, their towels lying forgotten in the dirt. Apparently both of them had either forgotten that they were nude or decided they didn't actually care. With a heavy sigh, Porrim stooped down to pick up the towels and followed after them. The Council (what was left of it) had decided to allow Meulin in with only a few minutes of debate. Now it was like she had always been a part of their lives.

Porrim headed up the path at her own pace. After a few minutes of walking she was able to see Kankri and Meulin up ahead. Kankri was on the ground, and Meulin was crouching beside him. As she got closer, she could hear what they were saying.

"It's fine! Just go ahead!" Kankri said. His hands were gripping his knee.

"Just let me see it!" Meulin tugged at one of his wrists, trying to remove it. "If it's nothing, then let me see!"

"Let you see what?" Porrim asked, approaching the two young trolls.

Kankri looked up at his mother. His eyes were pleading, as though he were begging her for help. "I fell and cut my knee."

"Oh? Well let's have a look," Porrim said, kneeling down best him.

"No! I don't want her to see!" He jerked his head towards Meulin, who seemed a bit hurt. But still his mother did not understand.

"Meulin can handle a little bit of blood, Kanny," Porrim said. She pulled his hands away. The cut was nothing serious. He'd simply fallen and scraped his knee. A drop of candy red blood started to roll down the side of his leg. Some of it was smeared on his palms. For a moment she was almost surprised by the color. It was so easy to forget that Kankri was a mutant. The fact faded in the back of her mind, buried by chores that had to be done and a million different worries. But now his blood blazed bright for all three of them to see.

Meulin's mouth dropped open in shock. "What...what's _wrong_ with you?"

She didn't know.

Of course, Porrim realized this far too late. That's what he had been trying to tell her. She didn't know, and he didn't want her to find out. At least, not this way. Before she could do or say anything Kankri was up on his feet and sprinting towards the camp. "Kankri!"

He was already gone.

"Damn it," Porrim said quietly. She ran her hand through her still-wet hair and stood. Meulin stayed crouched on the dirt, staring down the path.

"He's a mutant." Meulin spoke the words so quietly, Porrim almost didn't catch them.

She nodded slowly. "Yes, he is."

"Everyone here is a mutant," Meulin said, getting to her feet slowly. "Even if they don't look like they are. That's why everyone wants to live out here. Because they'll be killed if they try to live with everyone else."

Porrim offered her her hand. Together they started to walk back towards the camp. "Not everyone here is a mutant. Some of them are criminals."

"That's not much better," Meulin said, glancing up at her.

The older troll chuckled slightly. "No, I don't suppose it is. But you are right. People live out here because we can't go on living with everyone else. For one reason or another. Sometimes it's their genetics. Sometimes it's something they did. Sometimes it's just something that they can't control. Like you. Your lusus died, and you went feral so that you wouldn't be culled."

Meulin nodded once. "Why did you come to live out here?"

"I suppose it was a mix of two things," Porrim said, glancing down at her. "I'm a jade blood. So when I was nine sweeps old, I was sent down into the caverns to take care of the Grub Mother. It was my duty as a part of that caste. And I hated it. Then I found Kankri, and I knew he wouldn't survive if he didn't have someone to look after him. So I took him, and I left behind the place I hated."

"What about Kankri's friend? The one that limps and can't see well? Why is she here? She's almost a highblood," Meulin asked. "They can do whatever they want."

"Kennoe?" Porrim asked, raising an eyebrow. "She's a threshecutioner that went rogue. Why, I can't say for sure. I never asked her."

They'd almost reached the camp. They could see the pitched tents and the fire that was cooking that night's meal.

"...why didn't he tell me?" Meulin asked.

"I'm not sure." The fact that Kankri had hidden his blood color from Meulin showed that he was somehow ashamed of it. Or, at the very least, scared of her reaction. That meant he was beginning to get a grasp on the severity of his mutation. His age of innocence was slowly beginning to end. "Perhaps you should ask him."

When they reached the tent, Kankri was already dressed. He was attending to his scraped knee on his own. Porrim watched him while Meulin got dressed. (One of the first things Porrim had done was made some clothes for the poor child; she could hardly keep running around in those rags she'd been wearing.) Finally, not knowing what else to do, she went over and kissed the top of Kankri's head. It was her way of apologizing to him. He tilted his face up to kiss her cheek, and she knew that all had been forgiven.

"I'm going to go talk to Kiroph," Porrim told him. "He wants to see if I can help make some new fishing nets."

Kankri nodded, accepting her explanation without comment. Once she was gone, Meulin sat down in front of him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

"I was afraid," he answered.

Meulin frowned. "Afraid of what?"

Her friend couldn't seem to offer an answer. He just shrugged and began the bandage up his knee. Most of the bleeding had stopped, but there was blood still on his hands.

"You can tell me anything you know," Meulin said. "I'll still be your friend. I'd even be your friend no matter what your blood color was."

Kankri smiled slightly and raised an eyebrow. "What if I were a sea-dweller?"

"Maybe," Meulin said, smiling back. "Though you'd look pretty stupid with fins instead of ears."

They both grinned. Kankri finished bandaging up his knee. He rolled his pant leg back down over it, and it was as though it had never happened. "...I was afraid you wouldn't like me if you knew I was a mutantblood. You weren't part of the Tribe yet, and I didn't know how someone from the outside might react. And then I didn't know how to tell you because I felt bad about lying to you."

"It's ok," she said. "I know why you did it."

He smiled slightly, then looked down at the dried blood on his hands. "...you said I could tell you anything, right? If I tell you a secret, will you promise not to tell anyone else?"

"Duh." Meulin frowned. "What is it?"

"You have to swear on your life that you won't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you. Not Mother, not anyone." Suddenly it was as though Kankri were a completely different person. His face was stern, and his eyes seemed to look right through her.

Meulin nodded quickly, if only to make this strange Kankri go away. "I swear."

"On your life?"

"On my life."

Kankri took a deep breath, as though he needed strength to say the following sentence: "I have visions."

"What? You mean, your dreams? I already knew-" Meulin began, but he interrupted her.

"No, no! Not the dreams. When I fall down like I'm dead? That's when they happen. I'll see or hear or even smell something and it sets it off. And I see something that relates to whatever set it off," Kankri explained. "Like...like that night when I was skinning the nut creature? I saw all that brown blood and it set one off. One of my dream friends, Rufioh, is a brown blood. And I saw him. And he was hurt. Bad. I didn't think he was going to live. And that brown blood was everywhere. Seeing that nut creature's blood made me remember _his_ blood."

A silence fell between the two of them. The words had just poured from Kankri's mouth. Once the secret was out, he wanted nothing more than to tell her about every single vision he'd had for the past half sweep. But instead, he waited. Meulin sat facing him, trying to process what she'd just heard. It was a hefty secret, and she was certain that she was the first to hear about it.

"...remember. You said you _remembered_ seeing his blood," Meulin said suddenly. "Like they're memories or something."

"Sometimes they feel like that," Kankri admitted. "Sometimes- sometimes when I come out of one, I forget where I am. I forget who the people around me are."

They were silent again, trying to make sense of it. Neither of them moved or spoke until the call went out for dinner.

Life carried on as usual for everyone in the Tribe. Their group was smaller now, but it was not broken. If anything, losing half the group had only strengthened them. Now there were only twenty-four mouths to feed, rather than forty-seven. Kankri and Meulin's lives continued on, though their relationship had changed slightly. Their friendship, forged by chance and circumstance, had been sealed forever with a single secret. Each time Kankri had a vision, he would tell Meulin about it whenever they were alone. And each time they attempted to piece together some meaning, some answer to the riddle. Yet it always alluded them.

Two sweeps marched past. The Tribe chose a new camp to replace the one that had been burned. It was far from the original sight, and doubled their journey time. But no one complained. Life was quiet and safe. That was all that mattered.

Then, the sickness hit.


	10. Sickness

The sickness struck them like lightning. There was no warning. A troll named Kafele came down with it first. One night she lay sick in her tent with a fever and a bad cough. Twenty-four hours later she was dead. Then, two more trolls fell ill. Then two more. The strongest of them lasted seven nights. Some succumbed the same night their symptoms materialized.

Whatever the illness was, it had no regard for blood color. Lowbloods, midbloods, and highbloods alike fell to it. The symptoms were a bit like a disease known as the Flux, which was common among lowbloods. It began with coughing. At first it was just a dry hack. Then, slowly, the afflicted would began to cough up phlegm. Phlegm quickly turned to blood. It would come out of their mouths in alarming quantities with each cough. By that time they would have a horrible fever. In the end stages, it would be difficult for them to breathe. Blood would drip from their noses, mouths, and eyes. If the fever did not kill them, the blood did. They choked on it, drowned in it.

The sick trolls were put in a large tent a little bit away from camp. A handful of trolls volunteered to care for them, only to fall sick themselves. After ten nights, Kankri, Porrim, and Lacene were the only healers left standing. Both Lacene and Porrim were impervious to disease, and it was thought that Kankri's mutantblood somehow gave him immunity.

He paced through the rows of sick trolls, looking at the familiar faces. Many of them were in the final throes of the disease. It was difficult to watch. Kankri known many of these trolls since he was a grub, and now he had to watch them sicken and die.

Viovis began to cough violently. Without missing a beat, Kankri grabbed a wooden bowl and went over to her. He held it underneath her mouth while she coughed. Yellow blood oozed from her mouth and nose. The sight of the yellow blood, dripping slowly into the bowl, began to trigger a vision. Kankri closed his eyes and managed to suppress it. Now that he was six sweeps, he was handling them better. Most of the time he could fight them off. But there were times when they simply refused to be ignored.

"Here," Kankri said, taking a rag and wiping her face. "Do you want some water?"

Viovis nodded and laid back down, too exhausted to sit up for more than a couple of minutes. He stood and walked to the corner of the tent. A single clay jug stood filled with cool, clear water. It had to last another three days, and it had to last for all of them. Kankri poured a small amount into a wooden cup and carried it back to Viovis. She drank it gratefully, then fell asleep.

"Kankri? I brought you some food," Meulin said, entering the tent. Her voice was barely above a whisper. The tent was as silent as a grave, aside from the sounds of coughing and labored breathing.

He went to the entrance to meet her, taking a handful of berries from her. Since Kankri and the sick trolls were not doing work, they were not receiving rations. They were forced to rely on the kindness of the healthy trolls. But, so far, everyone had been generous. Porrim had given up her rations entirely, and was existing off of blood from a couple of willing participants.

"Thank you Meulin." Kankri smiled at her. Initially, she had wanted to help care for the sick. But she was too good of a hunter to remain in a tent all night. So she did her part wherever she could. "I'm starving."

"You need fresh air," she said. "Come sit outside with me."

Kankri glanced over his shoulder at the sick trolls. "But-"

"Go on Kankri," Porrim said, speaking up from the opposite end of the tent. She was administering some medicine to one of their patients, attempting to bring their fever down. "You need to rest."

With that, Meulin yanked him out of the tent. They settled themselves underneath a tree, not too far from the tent. Kankri devoured the berries in a matter of moments. Often when people brought them rations he would pass them along to the sick. It gave them strength, but it left him with an empty stomach.

"You look tired," Meulin said, watching him eat. She hugged her knees close to her chest.

"You do too," he said. "Are your nightmares getting any better?"

She shook her head. Now that they were six sweeps old, they were beginning to make the transition into adulthood. Meulin had started having horrible nightmares. With no sopor slime to ease her sleep, she would wake in the middle of the day screaming. She was more aggressive than before, more keen to fight. Kankri, however, still had pleasant dreams. The violent thoughts that plagued the subconsciousness of all trolls seemed to be absent in him. He remained as he had always been.

"Have yours started?" she asked. "At all?"

"No," Kankri replied. "Mother says it's because I'm a late bloomer."

"Lucky you," Meulin sighed, resting her chin on top of her knees. "Then again, maybe it's a trade-off. For the...you know."

"I think I'd take the nightmares over the visions," he said, lowering his voice on instinct. The visions were still their own private secret. No one knew about them, not even Porrim. "But I'm getting better at repressing them. Maybe soon I'll stop seeing them altogether."

"Maybe," Meulin said. "Maybe not."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by coughing from within the tent. Kankri looked over and frowned. Part of him dreaded going back in. He didn't want to watch the trolls he cared about die in slow agony. They were all certainly going to die. None of the medicines they used seemed to help. They could bring down the fever, but the coughing and the blood refused to respond to any combination of herbs. None of them had the medical knowledge to deal with this.

_Well_ , he thought, _why don't we just find someone who does?_

He knew at once that it would be their only chance. But finding a doctor would be a challenge. The Tribe treated everything with herbal remedies. They knew what plants could ease vomiting and what juices took the sting out of burns. The knowledge was passed from troll to troll, and most people could treat themselves for a variety of ailments. It was not incredibly different out in the rest of the world. A bad cough or a sprained ankle was enough to get you culled. So most preferred to treat themselves to the best of their ability. But serious illnesses and injuries that required treatment would require a doctor, and that was a risky business.

Most doctors learned their craft in secret from an older, more experienced mentor. They almost exclusively worked on highblood patients, as they were the only ones who could afford their discreet services. Where would they find a doctor who would be willing to work on lowbloods and midbloods? Feral lowbloods and midbloods at that?

There has to be someone out there, Kankri thought, his mind racing. The others in the Tribe liked to talk about how cruel the world outside their camp was. But surely it couldn't be that bad, could it? His mother had told him that a threshecutioner would kill him without a second thought. Yet he had been spared by one. There was compassion in Alternia; you just had to go out and find it.

He got to his feet and smiled. "Meulin, I think it's safe to say the Tribe has reached a state of emergency."

"Yes, it has," Meulin said with a sigh. "Everyone's sick."

"You know what that means, right?" Kankri offered her his hand. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet. "It means we have to go to the city."

*

The idea of going into the city was not welcomed warmly. It was only after several more deaths and several new cases of the sickness did the Tribe begin to realize that this was not something they could beat with herbal remedies and careful quarantine.

"I still don't know where we're expected to find a doctor," Lacene said, frowning. She grabbed a rag and began to mop up a puddle of blood that had been left by the most recent deceased troll. "And if we do find one, how do we know we can trust them? We won't be able to pay them, and they can make a fortune by selling us to the threshers."

"Surely someone will take pity on us?" Kankri said. He knelt beside Sanuor, who was one of the recently afflicted. They were attempted to keep the bleeding at bay for as long as possible. Sanuor was a mutant like many other members of the Tribe, but his was not typically visible. His mutation was also potentially deadly: his blood refused to coagulate. Something as simple as a bloody nose could cause him to bleed to death. A sickness like this, which caused large amounts of internal bleeding, would kill him in an hour if they did not find some way to prevent the bleeding from starting. They were attempting to accomplish this by giving him a new herbal concoction that was meant to thicken the blood. Whether or not it would accomplish this task was yet to be seen.

"Kankri, there are very few trolls out there capable of pity," Lacene replied. She frowned at him and dipped her bloody rag into a bowl of water.

He thought of the threshecutioner. Even though it had been two sweeps, he could still see his face in his mind's eye. Kankri said nothing. The chance encounter with the threshecutioner had remained a secret from everyone, including Meulin.

"Compassion has its limits," Porrim agreed.

"It didn't with you," Kankri said quietly. "There are kind trolls out there. Even highbloods can be good."

Lacene and Porrim exchanged a look. It was difficult for Kankri to fully grasp what the world outside their group was like. Perhaps one day he would see it for himself, and realize just how lucky he was.

The young troll finished giving Sanuor his medicine and began to move on to the next patient. While Kankri was helping them, Sanuor spoke suddenly.

"I knew one," he said quietly. His voice was hoarse.

Kankri glanced over at him. "Hm?"

"A kind troll," Sanuor said. "She was a doctor."

That piqued their interest. He now had their full attention. Even Lacene stopped what she was doing to listen.

"Could she help us?" Kankri asked.

"I don't know," Sanuor answered. "She's a lowblood. It's been many sweeps...she's probably old now. If they didn't catch her treating people. If they did, she was probably executed."

"If we wanted to find her," Kankri said, "where would we look?"

At that moment Sanuor was overcome by a violent coughing fit. Kankri comforted him the best he could, but he couldn't help but feel impatient. Every night, the number of the sick and dying increased. It seemed that with every minute that ticked by, their group was that much closer to total annihilation at the hands of the mysterious virus. When Sanuor finally recovered, he provided an answer.

"Last I heard, she was living in the country," Sanuor said. "South of Metrollpolis."

"Metrollpolis? That's far from here." Lacene frowned. They were at their third camp of the sweep, and it was far from even the smallest town. After their other camp burned, they'd made it a point to get as far away from civilization was physically possible.

Porrim looked to her. "One of us could probably make the journey fairly quick. We're faster than the others."

"I want to go," Kankri said quietly. For three sweeps he'd been working for his food within the Tribe. Most of the time he was relegated to water duty, foraging, or patching tents due to his 'fainting spells'. Everyone else was busy risking their lives for the good of the Tribe, and he was always picking fruit. But he was getting a handle on his visions. He was six sweeps old now. It was time to step up. "I'm _going_ to go."

His mother sighed. "Kankri, you're not old enough. It'd be too dangerous for you out there."

"I'm six," Kankri replied with a frown. "When you were six you-"

"No one is going anywhere. At least not yet," Lacene interrupted. "We don't even know this person's name, or if she's still alive. For all we know she was culled sweeps ago."

"I hope not," Kankri said, turning back to his work. He could always fight it out with his mother later. "She's our only hope."

*

The remaining members of the Council seated themselves beside the fire. The rest of the Tribe watched them anxiously. Lacebe spoke up first to tell them the results of their meeting. She cleared her throat, then said: "We've decided we're going to send a small group out to look for the doctor Sanuor described. At most the group should contain no more than three trolls with no visible mutations. Are there any volunteers?"

There was a moment of tense silence. Then, suddenly, Kankri and Meulin's hands shot up at the same time. The Council looked to them.

"We'd like to volunteer," Kankri said, ignoring the look his mother was giving them.

"Kankri, Meulin, you two are much too young to be going anywhere," Lacene said, frowning at them.

"I don't know," Jupaza said, speaking up. "I think it's about time they started pulling their weight."

"They've been pulling their weight for two sweeps now!" Porrim hissed suddenly. She had been quiet at the beginning, but now she could hold her silence no longer. "I'm their custodian, and I forbid it."

Kankri frowned and looked to Kennoe for help. She most likely couldn't see his pleading look, as her vision had never fully recovered from her trip into broad daylight. But she seemed to sense it. "Porrim, they're old enough to make decisions for themselves. They're six sweeps old! Plus, it's not a bad idea."

"Excuse me?" Lacene said, turning on Kennoe. "How is sending two wrigglers to find a doctor a good idea?"

"How much attention do people give wrigglers?" Kennoe asked, arching an eyebrow. "None. They walk past them like they're not even there. Yeah, nubs is a mutant. But his eyes are still gray. No one would be able to tell unless they drew blood. And I think Meulin would get to them before they got to him."

Kiroph frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "She's got a point. But I still don't like the idea of sending the two of them out alone."

"I'll go then," Porrim said, frowning. She looked at Kankri. "Where he goes, I go."

"Please tell me you three aren't serious about this," Lacene said, looking at the rest of the Council. "This is a very important task, and you're thinking of entrusting it with two six sweep olds and only one adult?"

"If the wrigglers want to do it, let them do it," Jupaza replied. She looked at the other members of the Tribe. "Does anyone else want to volunteer?"

No one raised their voice or their hand. None of them were keen on going back towards civilization after the last incident. The idea of facing threshecutioners – or any other type of authority – was enough to make them want to take their chances with the virus. It was decided then that Kankri, Meulin, and Porrim would be the ones to go hunting for the doctor. The meeting was dismissed, and everyone returned to their tents. Lacene alone went down to the sick tent. She was now the only healer they had who could safely tend to the sick.

"You two know you're far too young to do this," Porrim said, her voice full of steel.

"We can do it," Meulin replied, frowning. "We've made it on our own before. Remember?"

"That was out of necessity. It couldn't be helped," Porrim snapped. "This isn't a necessity."

Kankri frowned at her. "Yes, it is. Someone needs to go get a doctor. Even though it's dangerous, someone has to do it. Or else everyone will suffer."

With that, Kankri and Meulin curled up together on their sleeping pile. After they settled down together, he turned his face away and coughed once.


	11. Strange Visitors

Aljeda saw the trolls coming up the road and knew at once they were heading for her.

The countryside south of Metrollpolis was largely flat with very little cover. It was easy to see travelers approaching from miles away. That was why she'd moved into this hive when she got too old to travel. Here, the threshecutioners and subjugglators couldn't sneak up on her. And neither could any patients.

She sat beside the window and watched them. It looked like there were two at first, an adult and a younger troll. But as they got closer she could see that the adult was carrying someone. They were still about a good bit away, so she had time to prepare. Aljeda shuffled around her hive, drawing the curtains over the windows. She spread some paper out on the table and got out her bag of medical supplies. Many of the tools were old, but still functional. She had a plethora of medicines stored in her cooling block. 

By the time she was finished, there was a hurried knock at the door.

“I'm coming, I'm coming,” she grumbled, going to the door. 

As she thought, there were three trolls. Two of them were younglings, and one was grown. Aljeda narrowed her eyes and looked them over carefully. The adult was a very beautiful and tall midblood. In her arms was a young troll, around six sweeps old. He appeared to be unconscious. Standing beside her was a girl around the same age, with bushy hair that went down past her shoulders. They were all wearing weathered clothing, and their faces were lean and hard. The little girl didn't have any shoes; her feet were coated with dirt and mud. 

“Please,” said the adult troll. “Please, he's very sick.”

“Who sent you?” Aljeda asked, narrowing her eyes. 

“Sanuor,” she answered. “Please. Please, please help him. Please. I'll give you anything you want.”

The lady was desperate. Aljeda arched an eyebrow at her and the two little ones. Did they really know Sanuor? He'd disappeared after word got around that he was a hemophiliac. It was a good thing, too. Otherwise he would have certainly been culled. She didn't think he was still alive. But apparently, he was. How else would these three know him? 

“Aren't you the doctor?” asked the little girl, her voice barely above a whisper.

“...yes. I am,” Aljeda admitted. “Come in. And be quick about it.”

The midblood was in the door faster than Aljeda could blink. She did not need to be told to set him down on the table. Aljeda watched her lay him down gently, as though he were something precious and breakable. The young troll stood at her side, looking anxious.

“What's wrong with him?” she asked, grabbing his wrist to check his pulse. It was steady, and normal for the most part. She checked his temperature, and found it was dangerously high. She immediately administered some medicine to bring it down. 

“He's sick,” said the midblood. “It started with a cough, then a fever.”

“Is he a lowblood?” Aljeda asked. She went to her bag, pulling out her pulmonary listening device. When she used it to listen to his breathing, she found that it was irregular. There was a faint bubbling sound every time the boy inhaled, signaling that there was some type of fluid in the lungs. All of his breaths seemed shorter than average, as though he couldn't get enough air in. So far, the signs were pointing towards Flux. She saw it often with lowbloods. But adult troll seemed to hesitate.

“Well?” Aljeda asked. “Is he?”

“He's...he's not a lowblood,” said the troll. “He's-”

“A teal blood!” the girl blurted out. She pointed at the weapon strapped to his hip, which Aljeda had barely noticed. It was a black sickle with a teal handle. “He's a teal blood.”

Their attitudes made her suspicious, but she accepted their answer without further questions. “If he were a lowblood, I'd say it was the Flux. Perhaps it is. It could be a mutant strain. I'll treat him for that, and see how he responds to it. But I've never given a midblood this sort of medicine before.”

“Do whatever you have to,” said the troll. She clasped the boy's small hand in her own. “Just so long as he gets better.”

Aljeda nodded. She shuffled through the block quietly, gathering up the necessary medicine. “Does he have a name?”

“His name is Kankri,” the girl answered at once. “I'm Meulin. She's Porrim.”

“Well, Meulin and Porrim,” Aljeda said, filling a syringe with the necessary antibiotic, “you two can wait in the next block while I treat him.”

“Why can't we stay?” Porrim demanded.

“You can, but I prefer not to be distracted while I work,” Aljeda said, frowning at her. “And usually my patients prefer it too.”

Porrim and Meulin looked at each other, silently trying to decide whether or not they should leave their friend alone. Finally the elder of the two sighed and walked out. Meulin glanced back at Kankri, watching Aljeda as she injected the antibiotic into his arm. Then she frowned and followed Porrim out. 

*

There was something off about the three travelers. 

Aljeda was almost certain they were runaway slaves. The boy couldn't be a teal blood. He was obviously a lowblood who had come down with the Flux. She wasn't sure where the sickle at his hip came from. It was quite plainly a threshecutioner sickle, and the boy was barely six. Perhaps the older troll had killed one of them and given it to the boy. There was something off about her. Something about Porrim seemed...dangerous.

Her patient was making progress, but not as quickly as was expected. Most people who came down with the Flux responded to the medicine right away. All it did for Kankri was pull him away from the brink. He was no longer in danger of dying, but he wasn't out of the woods yet. This would have been proof to anyone else that he wasn't actually a lowblood, as the medicine only had a mild effect on him. But Aljeda was certain he couldn't be anything else. There were only a handful of diseases that went across the entirety of the hemospectrum, and the Flux was not one of them. 

Delirium was shortly added to his list of symptoms. Two nights after the trio arrived, Kankri awoke in the middle of the day and emerged from the coon she reserved for patients. She was awakened by a loud crash, and hobbled down the hall to see what was the matter. Porrim and Meulin had already beaten her there. They were trying to help Kankri back into the coon, but he wasn't cooperating.

“Don't touch me!” he yelled, pulling his arm away from Meulin. “Don't touch me!”

“Kankri, let us help you,” Porrim said, her voice gentle. 

He shook his head and attempted to stand. It looked as though he'd already toppled a chair in his attempt to stay on his feet. He reached for the desk and attempted to use it to stand. “I am...perfectly capable...of doing this...”

His fingertips brushed against the desk. Kankri attempted to stand, but could not grip it. He fell down again and murmured, “Drat...”

“Alright, move. Move!” Aljeda said, pushing Meulin aside. The young troll hissed at her, but backed away. She grabbed Kankri and lifted him, gently but firmly, and helped him towards the coon. Yet even in his weakened state he struggled. “Exactly what are you trying to accomplish, youngling? You need to rest.”

Kankri stared at her with glazed eyes, as though he weren't truly seeing her. “I have to bring Mituna into the session. The world is ending.”

Aljeda frowned. She had no idea what the little one was talking about, and one glance at Meulin and Porrim told her they didn't know either. “Alright, get back into the coon. Sleep. I promise you the world will still be here when you wake up in the evening. Come on now. Good boy, there you go. Go on. That's it.”

When he was back in his coon, she and the other two trolls went out into the hall. She frowned at them, looking back and forth between the two. “Do either of you know what any of that was about?”

“He had...'dream friends', when he was very young,” Porrim explained. “He dreamed about trolls his age. And Mituna was one of them. I think he was just groggy and confused. That's all.”

Aljeda nodded once. That made sense. A troll his age ought to be dreaming about horrible, twisted things. Though she had never experienced dreams about the end of the world. They were always about more individual things, such as murder or torture. Oh well. It wasn't any of her business. She just didn't want him to hurt himself stumbling around the block. Someone would have to watch him. When she voiced this to the others, Porrim volunteered to take the first watch. They were all so oddly attached to each other. It wasn't natural for an adult to be so involved with two wrigglers. It was just...strange.

Many of their customs were strange, it seemed. Meulin insisted on spending most of her time outside. Occasionally she spotted her outside attempting to capture small beasts with her bare hands. What was shocking was that she often succeeded, and would bring in the dead animal and offer it to Aljeda. When it became clear that she refused to skin and eat a wild animal, Meulin did it herself outside. She skinned it, gutted it, and cooked the meat over a small fire. Aljeda wouldn't to take any of it, so the youngling carried it up to her friend.

Kankri's delirium came and went. Sometimes when he awoke, he was fine. He spoke with Aljeda calmly and told her how he felt, and thanked her repeatedly for helping him. But other times when he awoke he acted as though he did not recognize any of them except for Meulin. He went on and on about things she did not understand: Skaia, the Scratch, Prospit, Derse, the Battlefield, the game. On top of it, it was as though he were a completely different person. He wouldn't allow anyone to touch him, and his manner of speaking seemed to shift slightly. None of this made any sense to any of them. He never remembered these episodes afterwards, but seemed to be very concerned about what he said.

“I mentioned the Scratch again?” he asked once, after they had related his most recent episode. “What did I say?”

“Just that you had to get the others to complete it,” Meulin replied. “You didn't say what it was.”

He frowned. “Did I say why we had to complete it?”

“You said if you didn't, trolls would go extinct forever,” his friend answered. Kankri's expression changed. For a moment, it was as though he understood. Then the look of confusion returned to his eyes, and he shook his head slowly. 

They were an odd group, alright. But Aljeda was about to be faced with even more complexities. 

*

The cough began to worsen. Aljeda gave him various medicines in an attempt to treat him, but they had no effect. At times his body outright rejected them. It was then she knew that her assumption had been correct; Kankri was not a teal blood. But when she tried lowblood medicines, the result was still the same. As a last resort, she treated him as though he were a highblood. The medicine made him so violently ill that he threw up all through the day.

Not a lowblood, not a midblood, not a highblood.

What in the hell was going on here?

Aljeda considered confronting Porrim about the nature of the boy's blood, but decided against it. She would illicit the truth from Kankri himself. Instead of allowing Porrim or Meulin to keep watch over him, she decided to do it herself. All throughout the day she watched him sleep. When he awoke early the next evening, he was thankfully coherent. He sat up, sopor slime still crusted in his eyes and his hair. He wiped it away groggily and looked towards Aljeda.

“Good evening,” he said, yawning. Suddenly he coughed, and an involuntary shudder ran through his entire body. 

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“No worse,” Kankri answered. He smiled slightly, then immediately was overtaken by a coughing fit. The youngling covered his mouth with his hand. His face was contorted with pain. When the fit finally passed, he pulled his hand away from his mouth. There was blood on his palm. Alarmed, Kankri attempted to slip his hand back into the sopor slime. But Aljeda was quick, for an old troll. She reached over and grabbed his wrist, turning over his hand.

His blood was candy red.

For a moment Aljeda simply sat there and stared. She wondered if her eyes were playing tricks on her. This couldn't possibly be his blood color. Candy red blood did not exist anywhere on the hemospectrum. Perhaps the illness was discoloring his blood, perhaps-

“I'm sorry,” Kankri said quietly. “We shouldn't have lied to you.”

“Is this your normal blood color?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“Yes,” he answered. “I'm a mutant.”

A mutant. That explained everything. The medications weren't working on him as well because they were designed for trolls with certain blood colors in mind. But Kankri did not exist on that spectrum at all. That was why he hadn't responded to any of the cough medicines she gave him, and why the injections had only just barely helped. 

“You shouldn't have hidden that from me,” Aljeda snapped. Had she known that to start with, she wouldn't have treated him to begin with. The boy was almost certainly going to die. “Blood color is incredibly important when it comes to treating trolls. Medications that work for lowbloods won't work for midbloods or highbloods.”

“I'm sorry,” he apologized again.

She frowned and released his hand. He wiped the blood off his palm and looked away. Something told her this wasn't the only secret that these three had been keeping from her. “Is there anything else I should know about you, Kankri?”

He nodded slowly.

“What is it then?” Aljeda demanded.

Kankri looked at her with sad, guilty eyes. “We're feral trolls. We live in a group out in the wilderness. Everyone is sick like me, and we came to find you. To get you to help. But I got sick. And on our way here I collapsed.”

“Ferals,” she repeated quietly. That explains how they had known about Sanuor. She'd suspected that he'd hidden in the wilderness. But she hadn't expected he'd live this long. Perhaps this group had looked after him and helped him with his condition, just as they had sheltered this mutant. Aljeda frowned. “I thought you were runaway slaves. But this is _much_ worse. Do you know what they'll do to you if anyone finds out you're here?”

“I can guess,” he said quietly. “I'm sorry.”

This was where her life had led her. Treating a six-sweep-old mutantblood who also happened to be a wildling. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “How many trolls are ill?”

“Almost all of them,” Kankri answered. “There were twenty-four of us, but when we left there were only fourteen.”

Aljeda frowned. “...I can send some medicines back with Porrim and Meulin. I don't know how much good they'll do, but they may give some of them the strength they need to fight back. You'll have to stay here, I'm afraid. You'll last longer if you rest.”

“Am I going to die?” he asked. His voice was very calm. She had seen people struggle to the last breath, but Kankri looked as though he had already accepted it. 

“Most likely,” Aljeda admitted. There was no medicine designed for his body. She was going to attempt to mix something specifically for him, but there was no guarantee it would work. And Aljeda had never been one for getting people's hopes up. 

Kankri nodded once, then started coughing again.


	12. Recovery

Kankri was sitting on the lap of Empress Feferi. He was still young, and enraptured by her beauty and never-ending kindness. She had a storybook open, and was reading to him from it. Kankri could not yet read on his own. But the pictures were enough to keep his interest. They depicted a group of friends laughing and playing. They were trolls of all different colors. Except...

"Where's the candy red one?" he asked, looking up at his custodian.

Feferi faltered only for a moment. "He's...off playing with the heiress. See? She's not in here, either."

That brought a smile to his face, and looked back at the pictures. He had never had any other playmates except for Meenah. It'd be nice to have someone else. Maybe one day he'd have a group of friends, and they'd be just as colorful and varied as this one. Kankri turned the page. It depicted trolls living in a lawn ring. They watered their lawns and gardens and played with their lusii. It seemed so peaceful. So happy.

"Is it really like that?" Kankri asked.

"No," said Empress Feferi. But her voice had changed. He looked back up at her, only to find she was now nothing more than an imposing shadow. It was only when he stared into her fuchsia eyes did he realized she was supposed to be Meenah. The storybook fell to the floor. The pictures of the happy lawnring had changed. The trolls did not play outdoors. Their doors were locked, their shutters closed. A hulking drone was stamping down the street.

Meenah's hands closed around his neck. "Want to know why there's no candy red bloods in the story?"

He struggled against her, trying to pry her hands away. "Meenah, you're hurting me-!"

"It's because they shouldn't exist." The pressure on his neck increased. He saw stars. "You shouldn't exist. Mutants didn't have a place on Beforus, and they don't have one on Alternia."

*

When Kankri awoke, he still couldn't breathe.

He sat up and started coughing. Blood oozed from his mouth. There didn't seem to be an end to it. He kept coughing and coughing. Meulin had been keeping watch over him, and she immediately ran out to fetch Aljeda. By the time they returned, Kankri was beginning to lose consciousness. He couldn't breathe. Darkness was threatening to overtake him. It began to seep in over his eyes, blinding him. The coughing only became more violent. His throat hurt, his chest hurt, his head hurt. Everything hurt.

He was barely aware of someone pulling him out of his coon. They laid him flat on his back.

"Open his mouth. Do it, do it now!"

Someone pried his mouth open, and something began to slither down his throat. It went down, down. And then: sweet, precious air. More and more of it. Slowly he began to come to. Aljeda had forced some sort of plastic tube down his windpipe, and was now using it to force air into his lungs. His mother and Meulin sat beside her. Both of them were holding his hands.

"How long will this keep him alive?" Porrim asked quietly.

"Maybe three nights, if the girl stays behind and helps," Aljeda answered.

"Then I'll be quick." Porrim said. She stooped down and kissed Kankri's forehead. "I'm going to take the medicine to the rest of the Tribe, Kankri. Then I'm going to come right back. Alright? I'm going to come back."

He couldn't nod, so he simply squeezed her hand.

Porrim smiled sadly, then hurriedly got to her feet and rushed out of the room. She'd left so that Kankri wouldn't see her cry, but he'd already seen the jade green tears forming in her eyes.

Meulin stayed by his side as Aljeda did his breathing for him. When she tired of it, she handed the duty off to her. Kankri eventually fell asleep again, exhausted by the entire ordeal. When he awoke he was disoriented and confused. Where was everyone? Where was he? Whose hive was he in? What was this tube down his throat? He attempted to yank it out, but someone stopped him. When he looked up, Meulin was sitting over him. She smiled sweetly at him.

"No, Kanny, don't," she said. "I know it's uncomfortable but you have to keep it in."

What happened? Was he injured? It seemed likely; he could taste blood. But if he was badly hurt, why didn't they just take him to his quest coon? That was easier than...whatever else they were doing.

He tried to yank the tube out again, but once again Meulin stopped him.

"Don't, Kankri!" she hissed. Her brow was furrowed with concern. "Aljeda is still mixing your medicine. You have to wait."

Aljeda? Who in the world was Aljeda...? No one in their session, obviously. He attempted to remove the tube for a third time, if only to ask Meulin what was happening. But again she stopped him, this time digging her nails into his wrist. He tried to yank his hand away. Her grip was too strong, however, and he was forced to be content with glaring at her.

"Don't look at me like that!" she said. "I'm trying to help you!"

Help him. God. Everyone always presumed he needed help. His custodian, the servants, Meenah, all of his friends. Well he didn't need it. Just because he was a mutant didn't mean he was helpless. Kankri yanked his hand free and sat up. With his back to Meulin, he pulled the tube out of his throat. It was slightly painful, but at least he was free to talk now.

"Kankri, no!" Meulin said. She grabbed his shoulder. "Stop it! ALJEDA! HE PULLED OUT THE TUBE!"

God, there was so much blood in his mouth. What happened?

"Where...the others?" Kankri managed to say. Blood was dripping on to the floor. Oh, God. He really was dying. Again. He tried to get to his feet, only to stumble and be caught by Meulin. "Whose...planet?"

"What? Oh, God, Kankri don't do this now!" Meulin said, laying him on to his back. "Please come back. Please be normal. Don't start again!"

Normal?! How dare she talk to him like that. He started coughing. He could educate her on how to choose her words later. Right now, Kankri was dying. Meulin had to take him to his planet, had to put him in his quest coon. "Quest coon...just take me...I'll...god tier...just..."

An old troll hobbled into the room as quickly as she could. As he lost consciousness, she began to shove the tube back down his throat.

*

When he awoke again, it was only briefly. His mother was standing over him. She was crying. He managed to smile at her before he fell back asleep.

The tube was gone.

*

Kankri dreamed that he was looking in a mirror at a young troll who looked exactly like him. In fact, they were the same person. They were the same, but different.

*

He dreamed he was having a conversation with an older version of himself. He asked his older self what the Scratch was.

"Does it matter?" replied older Kankri. "It's already happened."

*

He finally awoke, and he felt much better. There wasn't any blood in his mouth. He could breathe. It was the middle of the day, but his mother was still pacing across the room. Kankri smiled when he saw her. He sat up, rubbing the sopor slime out of his eyes. Porrim rushed to his side.

"How do you feel?" she said, resting her hand on his cheek.

"I feel good," Kankri replied. He smiled at her. "What happened?"

"Aljeda toyed with a few medications and tested them on you. She made one that you didn't reject," Porrim explained. Her eyes were filling with tears. Suddenly she began to shower his face with kisses, making Kankri laugh. "Oh, God, I'm so happy you're alright."

Kankri wrapped his arms around her neck, hugging her close. It certainly felt good to breathe again on his own. It was amazing how he had taken basic bodily functions for granted. When he pulled away, he took a few deep breaths just because he could. It was fantastic. He felt as though he had been brought back from the dead. Perhaps, in a way, he had. "Did you get the medicine to the others?"

Porrim nodded. "Yes. I don't know how much good it did, but hopefully it will help some of them."

He wondered how many people would be there to greet them when they went back. It saddened him to think of how small their group had become. All of the friendly faces he had come to know were fading away. They were obliterated by fire or a sickle, or taken by this sickness. It was true that the Tribe was based around survival and survival alone. They helped each other because it benefited them. But that didn't mean he didn't care about any of them. Kankri had known them all since he was a grub. They were his people, and now they were dropping like tiny winged insects.

"I miss everyone," Kankri said, sighing. "I wish we could go back to before the burning."

"Never long for the past, Kankri," Porrim said. She grabbed his chin, tilting his head up to look her in the eyes. "You're alive, and that's what matters. When we go back, we will see who survived. And then we'll accept those we lost and move on. It's the only thing we can do."

"Why do we have to live like this?" Kankri asked suddenly. "Why do we have to deal with hunger and sickness and threshecutioners? Why do we have to live out in the wild and fight for everything we have?"

His mother frowned at him. "Kankri, you know why."

"Because some of us are different?" Kankri said, frowning. "Because we're mutants and runaways and convicts?"

"Yes, Kankri," Porrim replied. "I don't see why you're starting this now. You know why we have to live this way."

"Why does it have to be like that? Why do trolls have to come here in secret to get the help they need? Why do people that are different have to hide in the wilderness? What is everyone so afraid of? Why are they afraid of the sick and the unique?" Kankri demanded. He thought of all the trolls he had lost in his lifetime. So many friends. So many people who helped him, protected him, cared about him.

If things were different, they might still be alive.

"Because that is the way things are," Porrim said firmly. She sighed again, then hugged him. "Try not to get yourself worked up again. You'll need your rest. Aljeda wants us to leave as soon as you're fully recovered."

Kankri frowned, but did not protest any further.

*

"Thank you for everything, Aljeda," Kankri said, shaking her hand. Meulin and Porrim did the same. "You saved my life. I don't know how I can repay you for that."

"You could give me all the gold in Alternia's treasury and it still wouldn't be enough," Aljeda said, shaking her head. "You are just lucky your blood is so pliable. Otherwise I wouldn't have been able to make a medicine that worked with it."

Kankri raised his eyebrows and glanced down at his palm. "Pliable? What do you mean?"

"I broke your blood down into three basic proteins. Two of the three are what makes blood burgundy. But you had a third, unknown protein. It's the one that gives your blood its candy red coloring, and makes you reject medicines. But it's surprisingly malleable. Once I'd identified it as the mutant protein, making your medicine wasn't very difficult even with limited equipment," Aljeda explained. She smirked at him and crossed her arms. "You're quite the science experiment, Kankri."

"The reason I'm a mutant is because of one little protein?" Kankri asked. How close he had come. He was only a single protein away from being normal.

"One protein is determined by hundreds of genes, Kankri," Aljeda replied. "It sounds small, but your blood isn't exactly a common accident."

Meulin smiled slightly and grabbed Kankri's hand. "It just makes you more unique."

"Too bad that's a bad thing here," Kankri said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother frown. He turned his attention back to Aljeda, smiling at her. "I can't give you all the gold in Alternia's treasury, but is there any way I can pay you? Just name it."

Aljeda considered for a moment. "I still have samples of your blood on hand from when I was working to make your medicine. Do I have your permission to keep them?"

Well, he hadn't been expecting that. But he nodded once. "Sure, I guess."

"I'd like to study them," she said. "And who knows. Maybe one night you'll come back to me needing a transfusion."

"Don't even joke," Porrim said, sighing. "In three sweeps he's almost died twice. He's probably beginning to frustrate the Handmaid. He keeps slipping through her fingers."

Kankri smiled at her. "Let's hope it stays that way."

"Well, you three best be on your way. I'll be culled for sure if the drones come by and see I've got three wildlings in here," Aljeda said, hurrying them towards the door. With smiles and a few more expressions of thanks, the three walked out. The flat plains of the country stretched out before them. As Porrim and Meulin began to head back the way they had come – towards the dark quiet of the wilderness – Kankri turned towards the lights of the city Metrollpolis. He thought of his dream with the story book, and how awful the world had looked when the pictures changed. Could it truly be that bad?

"Mother," Kankri said, still looking towards the city. "Why don't we cut through the city this time?"

Porrim froze, looking back at him. "Kankri, have you lost your mind?"

"Maybe," Kankri replied, grinning. He started to head down the road. It was like the city was calling to him. Before he knew it, he was jogging towards the lights. "Come on!"

"Kankri!" Porrim yelled. "Get back here! It's too dangerous!"

But moments later Meulin was at his side, running with him towards the city. She grinned at him. Wherever one of them went, the other followed without question. It was how their friendship had always been. Even if Kankri decided he wanted to sneak into the Empress's palace, he knew Meulin would be right there at his side.

"I've always wanted to see a city," Meulin said. "Bet I can beat you there!"

"You're on!" Kankri replied, smirking. The two broke into sprints, with Meulin beginning to pull ahead almost immediately.

"Oh my God," Porrim said, watching her two younglings race towards the city. She had half a mind to throw them both over her shoulder and carry them back to the camp. But at the same time...perhaps this might be educational for them. No doubt they were both curious. Maybe this experience would teach them what life was truly like outside of the Tribe. Maybe then both of them would be content to stay in the wilds, and it would silence Kankri's strange questions.

Sighing, Porrim hurried after the two young trolls.


	13. A Harsh Lesson

Kankri had never seen so many trolls in his life.

They were everywhere. Walking on the sidewalks, crowding together in public transportation vehicles, selling food from carts, sitting on corners, rushing to get wherever it was they were going. Threshecutioners lounged against buildings, their sickles glinting in the light from the street lamps. A subjugglator walked past, causing crowds to part with surprising speed. After spending only an hour among society, it was easy to tell who was a highblood and who was not. Almost everyone was displaying their blood color in some way, whether it was in their clothes or their weapon (everyone carried one in plain sight) or their hair. The lowbloods seemed to walk the fastest, their shoulders hunched and heads down. The highbloods walked with straight backs and chins in the air.

"There's so many people," Meulin said, gripping his hand tightly. Porrim hovered behind them, glancing around nervously for any of a number of threats. "I haven't ever seen so many trolls."

"Me either," Kankri replied, squeezing her hand. He felt like if he let go of her, the crowds would swoop him up like a strong river current and carry him to who knows where. Meulin was his anchor, just as he was hers.

"Come." Porrim nudged both of their shoulders, urging them forward. The two young trolls began to walk without knowing where they are going. "That threshecutioner is looking at us. We look strange standing together."

Kankri glanced over his shoulder at her. "What do you mean, Mother?"

"Don't call me that here," Porrim hissed. "Call me Porrim, if you have to speak to me."

"Why?" Kankri asked. He and Meulin began to cross the street together, his custodian still in step behind them.

"It's not normal, and will attract attention. I shouldn't even be walking with you two," Porrim said, glancing over her shoulder. The threshecutioner was no longer watching them, but she wasn't about to take any chances. "I'm going to fall behind, but I'll stay in sight. Alright? I won't leave you two alone, but it will look suspicious if I walk with two younglings."

With that, Porrim began to sink back into the crowd. It made Kankri nervous not having her close, but he knew she would still be able to see them and help if something went wrong.

"Let's go," Meulin said, tugging him along. She had apparently set her eyes on something and was determined to investigate it. As they hopped up on to the curb, Kankri noticed someone was lying in the gutter. He turned his head to look back at them, but Meulin had not seen them. She continued to pull him along until they reached what looked like an abandoned building. Its dilapidated exterior had been decorated with an intricate, colorful mural.  
"Whoa..." Kankri said, staring up at it.

The mural itself depicted lowbloods down on their knees with their hands clasped together. Fuchsia, violent, purple, and blue chains confined their wrists and ankles. The Empress hovered over them, smirking cruelly. Whoever the artist was, they had chosen not to put their signature on this particular piece.

"It's beautiful," Meulin murmured. She set her hand on one of the painted trolls, her hand resting over their chained wrists. "Horrifying and beautiful."

Kankri stared at the faces of the painted lowbloods. Their mouths were open in silent, unending screams. Or perhaps it was a plea to the set of fuchsia eyes that watched them from on high. He stared at them and was reminded of his dream. Kankri reached up and rubbed his throat. Suddenly he glanced over to see his mother standing in the crowd. She jerked her head, indicating for them to keep walking.

"Come on Meulin," he said, taking her hand. It probably wasn't wise to stand there and marvel at something that was obviously treasonous in nature.

Together they walked, not knowing or caring about their destination. Occasionally one of them would glance back to make sure Porrim was nearby. She always was. Sometimes she would stop to speak with a street vendor, or would inspect the wares on display in a store window. But she was never far behind them. It was reassuring, knowing that she was there. Especially as they moved deeper and deeper into the city. Kankri glimpsed several people lying in the gutters, and it did not take him long to realize they were bodies.

"That troll is dead, Meulin," he said, freezing when they came upon one. The poor soul was no older than them, maybe six sweeps at most. They looked as though they had starved to death. Her bones were highly pronounced and visible through her gray skin, her stomach was sunken in. Without thinking, Kankri walked over and sat beside her. She looked even worse up close. He frowned, setting a hand on her shoulder. "The poor girl...just look at her Meulin-"

It was at that moment that the starved troll jerked awake. She stared at Kankri with huge gray eyes, and pulled her bony shoulder away from his touch.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

"My name is Kankri," he said, trying to smile. Her sudden awakening had startled him. It was like she'd just come back from the dead. "I wanted to make sure you were ok."

She narrowed her eyes. He noticed that the space around her iris wasn't the typical healthy yellow color. It was much whiter than it should be. "You were trying to steal from me me. Well, I got nothing for ya! Nothing!"

"No, no," Kankri said. "I promise. You just looked so awful...here, let me help you. I promise I'm not going to hurt you."

"Why would you want to help me?" demanded the troll.

"Do I need a reason?" he asked, staring at her in confusion. "You're someone who needs help, I'm someone who can give it. But I can't do anything if you won't let me."

Kankri got to his feet and held out his hand to her. Hesitantly, the other young troll placed her bony hand in his. He helped her to her feet, and Meulin hurried over to assist her. Together the two helped the starving troll over to an alley, where she might at least have a bit of privacy. Kankri took off his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"What's your name?" he asked. His cloak, which was not big at all, seemed gigantic on her tiny and fragile form.

"Buvein," the girl replied.

Meulin sat down beside her, smiling. "I'm Meulin."

Buvein looked to her, and managed to smile back. She was slowly beginning to realize that these two weren't planning on robbing her and leaving her to die. Though she still seemed confused as to why these two were helping her. "Hi."

It was obvious that Buvein needed food. Kankri stepped back out of the alley and looked around. There was a vendor down on the corner selling food. He hurried down the street and approached him directly. "Please, sir, I need your help."

The vendor, who seemed to be a brown blood, frowned at him. "Get out of here, wriggler. I've got enough trouble without runts like you begging for food."

"It's not for me," Kankri said, frowning. "There's a girl down there, in that alley. Her name is Buvein. She needs food very badly."

"If you want food, you have to pay just like everyone else," replied the vendor.

Kankri frowned, and for a moment was at a loss as for what to do. He had no money. In the Tribe, you paid for what you got through your work. That was enough to give him an idea. Kankri looked back up at the brown blood. "Is there any work you need to be done? I'm strong, and used to working. You can pay me with food."

The vendor simply glared at him. "I don't need no work done. Now get out of here."

"Please, sir! She'll die without something!" Kankri was begging now. He had known the awful pain of hunger. But he had never been as close to death as poor Buvein. "Anything will do, please."

"I have to look out for myself, runt," the vendor growled.

"What if it were you?!" Kankri demanded, his voice rising. A few people around stopped to stare. "What if you were some poor wriggler who was starving to death? What if it was you who had hunger clawing at your insides, demanding something, anything? What if your eyes were turning white instead of yellow, and you could barely walk on your own because you were so weak? What if you were the one in that alley, and she was the one selling food? Wouldn't you want her to give you something? Wouldn't you feel angry that, though she could save you, she refused? Wouldn't you?!"

A small crowd had gathered now, and was staring at them. Kankri knew that his mother had to be watching from a few yards away. She would be angry at him for drawing attention to himself, but he couldn't help it.

The vendor seemed speechless. "Well. No one helped me get by when I was a wriggler."

"So you inflict the same cruelty on the next generation?" Kankri hissed.

"...fine. Here." The vendor shoved half a loaf of bread into his arms. "Tastes like shit anyway."

Kankri nodded once, still frowning. "I'll pay you back."

With that, he ran back to the alley.

*

Kankri and Meulin, being experienced with hunger themselves, had to force Buvein to eat the bread slowly so she would not make herself sick. They sat and spoke to her while she ate, and she explained the cause of her misfortunes: her lusus had died five perigees before, and she was on the streets in hopes of avoiding being culled. It was easier to avoid the drones if you were constantly moving, never sleeping in the same spot twice.

While they spoke with her, Kankri kept one eye on what was happening in the street. He knew his mother was lurking nearby, but he did not feel safe. Now that he was surrounded by thousands of other trolls, he began to realize just how alone he was. In a world of a million colors and hues, he was alone. His blood made him unique, but it also left him without a place. Everyone in the city, at least, had some sort of role.

Mutants didn't have a place on Beforus, and they don't have one on Alternia.

Kankri frowned, glancing out at the street again. To his surprise, everyone had gathered on the sidewalk. The noise of the crowds had silenced. "Something's happening out there..."

Without thinking, he walked out of the alley and maneuvered himself to the front of the crowd. Two archeradicators were marching up the street, each of them carrying bows. Behind them was someone mounted on a skyhorse. They were followed a small train of guards and servants, all on foot. But his attention automatically focused on the skyhorse's rider.

He was a seadweller, and looked to be around ten sweeps old. Though it was possible he was much, much older, as his mother had told him highbloods aged slower than all other trolls. His clothing was all violet, and his hands were adorned with gold rings. His horns were shaped like lightning bolts, and as he surveyed the crowd he sneered with contempt. It hit Kankri then that he was staring at a slightly older version of his dream friend, Cronus.

"Cronus?" he said aloud. Perhaps too loudly. The seadweller's head snapped towards his direction. But Kankri did not think. He stepped forward and addressed the seadweller again. "Cronus? Is that really you?"

The two archeradicators narrowed their eyes and started moving towards him. But Cronus raised his hand, signalling for them to stop. They obeyed. Slowly, Cronus dismounted his steed. He gestured for Kankri to come closer, so he did.

Everyone was watching them. No one said a word.

"What did you say, gutter-blood?" Cronus demanded.

"Just your name," Kankri said slowly. He was beginning to realize he had made a mistake, but there was nowhere to run. The archeradicators were still standing by, watching with hard blue eyes. "That is your name, isn't it? Cronus Ampora?"

Suddenly Cronus struck him in the temple with enough force to knock him on to his side. He cried out, gripping his head. The world began to spin. The street, the sky, the crowd all blended into one dark blur. 

"Never address your betters by their names, you puke-blooded piece of shit!" Cronus snarled, kicking him in the ribs. "I am not one of your disgusting little playmates. You call me 'sir', or 'my lord'. Do you understand?"

Another kick to the ribs. Kankri gritted his teeth. At first he had felt shock, confusion. But now all he felt was anger. All he had done was asked his name. How did that warrant a beating? How did that give him a right to beat up a wriggler? Kankri looked around helplessly, but all he found were cold, uncaring faces. Some of them were even smiling. Kankri snarled and reached for the sickle on his hip, drawing it in between kicks to the stomach and ribs. The archeradicators started to move forward, seeing his attempt to fight back as a threat to their charge.

Kankri raised the sickle, planning to slice into Cronus's leg. But he made the mistake of glancing up at his face. At that moment it was twisted by rage and contempt. For a second, however, he saw the face he knew in his dreams. That young, hopeful face. That constant smirk. There had been arrogance in that face, but nothing as malicious as what Kankri saw now. He hesitated, and Cronus stomped on his hand. He screamed.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!"  
Meulin came from nowhere, launching herself from the crowd. She jumped at Cronus, her sharp nails dragging across his face. She left two deep marks across his cheeks and nose, as well as a fainter third scratch. Cronus stumbled back, shocked. Violet blood rolled down his cheeks and nose. The archeradicators froze, apparently stunned that someone had actually managed to strike him.

"Come on," Meulin said, pulling Kankri to his feet.

The archeradicators came to their senses, and took aim at the two younglings. Before either of them could fire, however, both of them had been knocked to the ground. Porrim stood over them, her skin burning brightly. She snarled, preparing to pounce and kill them both. It would be easy. She could rip out their throats, and neither of them would ever be a threat to her younglings ever again-

"Mother, no!" Kankri yelled.

She froze, then looked around. Everyone seemed to be frozen. No one knew what to do in this sort of strange situation. Even Cronus stood there, amazed and shocked at the sight of his own violet blood. They had to use that to their advantage. Hissing loudly, Porrim ran at the two little ones and picked them up. Faster than any normal troll could manage, she ran through the alleys and backstreets and away from the city. She did not stop running until the lights from Metrollpolis began to fade in the distance, and the sun began to rise.

*

They arrived back at camp about five nights later. They were greeted warmly by the rest of the Tribe. Some of the sick trolls were now out and about. They had recovered enough to begin working again, while others were not as lucky. The medicine had come too late for some, and their numbers had taken another hit. But none of that seemed to matter at the moment.

Kennoe picked Kankri up and hugged him tightly, causing him severe amounts of pain. (They were fairly certain Cronus had cracked a rib.) But he attempted to return the gesture, smiling a little.

"Porrim told us you got sick," Kennoe said, setting him down again. "We thought you were dead for sure, nubs."

"Me too-" Kankri said, smiling sheepishly. But his mother stepped forward, her face stern. He had been dreading this moment ever since they left the city. He backed away slightly and grabbed Meulin's hand

"We have to leave," Porrim said. "It's not safe here anymore. Someone may be tracking us."

Kennoe raised an eyebrow. "Whoa, whoa. Cool your jets, Maryam. Did something happen?"

"Meulin attacked a seadweller," Porrim said. "She slashed his face open, Kennoe. And I attacked two archeradicators. They're not going to let that slide, and you know it. We have to pick up and move. Quickly."

All Kankri would do was stare down at the ground guiltily. He had been foolish, and he had the bruises to show it. There was a small cut on his temple, most likely from one of Cronus's rings. There were candy red bruises all over his chest and on his hand. He had been very, very foolish. And he had endangered everyone because of it.

"You...what? Why did you go through the city?" Jupaza said, jumping into the conversation now. "And why did you attack highbloods, of all people?!"

Meulin growled. "The seadweller was hurting Kankri! All because he said his name!"

Jupaza frowned and turned towards Kankri. "You. How could you be so stupid? You never talk to a seadweller unless they speak to you first! They're second only to the Empress!"

His mother, who had been telling him the same thing over and over for the past five nights, now grew angry and put herself between them. "It's my fault this happened. They wanted to go to the city, and I thought it might be good for them to see it. I've sheltered them far too much. They have no idea how to behave in that setting, and I'm to blame."  
"Hey, we didn't do much to teach them either," Kennoe broke in. "We all helped shelter these two, like it or not. They didn't know any better. But I'm sure they do now. Right nubs?"

Kankri nodded slowly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so stupid..."

Now Kiroph spoke, frowning at all of them. "What's done is done. But we can't take anymore unnecessary risks. We'll pick up and move to our next camp. Many are still recovering, but I think they can make the journey."

With that, the discussion was ended. Everyone split up to begin the packing process Kankri was all to familiar with. He'd always hated moving nights. Everyone was stressed, irritated, and worried over the smallest details. But now, he realized, he disliked it for another reason. It meant picking up everything and moving away from a place that had been their home for perigees. He wouldn't see this camp site again for a sweep. And that was only if they decided it was safe to return.

"I hate running," Kankri said, walking towards their tent with Meulin.

"Me too," she agreed. She frowned. "You weren't wrong. All you did was ask his name."

"I know," Kankri said. He crawled inside to roll up their sleeping mats and gather up their clothes. "One night, we're going to have to stop running from them. We all are."

He threw his clothes into a sack and sighed inwardly. They were heading north, and he'd given away his only cloak to Buvein. Mother wasn't going to be happy that she would have to make a new one for him.

_Oh well_ , he thought. _She needs it more than I do._


	14. The Flood Gates

Three more sweeps passed. The crisis of the sickness, and their speedy move afterwards, were forgotten over the perigees. They settled back into their routine, now with fewer trolls than ever before. Kankri and Meulin were beginning to cross the threshold into adulthood at the age of nine sweeps, and were garnering the respect and responsibility that came with it. Meulin was often assigned to leading hunting parties, due to her extreme skill in the field. Kankri helped prioritize what needed to be done and by who, while also remaining one of the most experienced foragers in the Tribe. (He had, after all, been doing it for the majority of his life.) Porrim remained the Tribe's expert seamstress, and always kept one eye on Kankri and Meulin. Just because they were almost grown did not mean that they didn't manage to get themselves into trouble.

Kankri's visions never stopped. He was able to successfully repress them far more frequently than before. But, as time went on, he found he didn't want to shove them aside. Occasionally he would describe things he had seen, and Meulin would draw them out to give them both a visual. Neither of them could shake the feeling that they had everything they needed to understand the mystery behind Kankri's visions and dreams. But they could not even begin to fathom how the pieces of the puzzle fit together.

Not until, at least, Kankri got lost in the desert.

The Tribe was in the process of moving to their next camp, which involved crossing the outskirts of one of Alternia's many deserts. This one, however, was the same desert that he and his mother had just barely survived after their escape from the caverns. (An escape, of course, that he did not remember. But he had been told the story several times by Porrim.)

Somehow during the day while the Tribe slept, a jug of water had been knocked over. Some suspected the harsh desert winds had toppled it, while others blamed the small scaled beasts that roamed the deserts. The fact remained, however, that they needed more water. It was a precious commodity, especially during journeys between camps. Kankri volunteered to find a spring and refill it. He, and all the others, thought it would be a quick errand. He would be back within two hours, perhaps three.

In reality, Kankri would be gone for almost an entire sweep.

"Be careful," Meulin said, handing him the jug. Once it had been heavy, and extremely difficult for Kankri to carry. But that was no longer the case. He was grown, and very used to fetching water. "Don't get bitten by anything."

"And if I do?" Kankri asked, grinning slightly.

"Scream for help until I find you," she answered.

Kankri rolled his eyes slightly and smirked. "My hero."

Giggling, Meulin stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. (Kankri was not a tall troll by any means. But she had stopped growing when she hit seven sweeps, and was so small that many members claimed she could be culled for it.) The gesture was not entirely unexpected, but Kankri's cheeks flushed candy red all the same. Her eyes sparkled wickedly. "Just don't get lost."

"Me? Get lost? Please," Kankri said, smirking.

"Are you going, Kankri, or aren't you?" Porrim said, walking past. She couldn't help but smirk slightly. Meulin and her son had been rather flirtatious with each other for the past sweep or so, and she enjoyed interrupting their conversations. Not because she objected to any sort of relationship between them (In fact, she welcomed it. She wanted both of them to have that much.), but because they thought they were successfully hiding their blooming red feelings. So her sudden presence would always make them take a few steps back or swiftly change to a new topic of conversation. That, to her at least, was incredibly amusing.

Even in passing, it worked like a charm. Meulin stepped back away from Kankri, and they both blushed slightly.

"She's right. I should probably be going," Kankri said. "And don't even think about eating my rations."

Meulin grinned playfully. "Wasn't even considering it."

With that, Kankri turned his back on the camp and began to walk into the heart of the desert.

*

It took him two hours of walking to find a suitable spring. He set the jug aside and knelt beside it. He was used to work, but the desert was not a kind environment. The cold wind was blowing dust into his mouth and eyes, and carrying the jug had made his arms stiff and sore. Kankri splashed his face with water and sipped from the pond. The water was warm and not very refreshing, but it was water. He sighed with contentment and ran his wet hands through his hair. At that moment, he was given a glimpse at his reflection.

To his surprise, his eyes were as bright as burning coals.

He leaned closer. His face was lean and angular, and was hardened by multiple periods of hunger. Freckles still dusted his cheeks and nose. His hair was getting a bit long for his liking (He'd have to ask Mother to cut it soon.), and his rounded horns had finally grown to an acceptable length. Overall, he considered himself a decent-looking (if a bit rugged) troll. But his eyes ensured that no one would look at his face. They were a remarkable shade of candy red, without any gray to be seen. He hadn't even realized that his eyes had finally changed color. In the Tribe, there was not much opportunity to admire your reflection. He had noticed Meulin's eyes changing to a lovely olive green, but he hadn't ever considered a similar transformation was taking place in his own irises.

There was no hiding what he was now. Anyone who looked in his eyes would know that something wasn't quite right.

Kankri frowned and pulled his hood up over his head. That helped obscure his eyes a bit, so long as he looked down. Turning away from the pond, he grabbed the jug and dipped it into the water. When it was filled, he stood and hefted it up.

When Kankri turned around, he realized he'd forgotten which direction he had come from.

"Oh shit," he murmured aloud. He looked around, hoping for a landmark to guide his course. Some dry scrub dotted the landscape here and there. A few hardy trees had managed to take root. But none of it offered him any assistance.

In the end, he was forced to simply pick a direction and walk.

He knew long before the sun began to rise that he was hopelessly lost. After two hours of walking passed and he still saw no sign of the camp, he turned around and went back the other way. Then he began to doubt whether it was truly two hours, and turned back again. He changed his mind once more and went all the way back to the pond, which he realized was not the same one he had been at before. By that point the sun was beginning to rise. There was nothing to do but find a tree, wrap himself in his cloak, and pray it would be enough to shield himself from the sun's rays.

When night fell again, he attempted to find his way back to the pond he had first visited. His search proved to be in vain. All he did was get himself even more turned around. The sun rose again, and he took shelter in the dry brush. Night after night he would attempt to find his way, only to end up far more lost than before.

He had water, at least, which he rationed carefully. The jug seemed to grow heavier with each passing night. If not for the precious commodity it housed within, Kankri would have gladly thrust it aside. But after ten nights of being hopelessly lost, the hunger was becoming too great to ignore. There were times when food was scare among the Tribe, and he could easily go three to five nights without any food. Ten, it appeared, was his stomach's limit.

All attempts to catch the small scaled beasts that roamed the scrubland were in vain. On the twelfth night he found some cactus fruit. It tasted sweet and bitter at the same time. But at that moment, it was the best thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life. Even better than the chocolate cake Kennoe had once procured for him.

On the twenty-third night, he ran out of water.

It was then that Kankri was certain he was going to die. He was hopelessly lost, and was now without water and food. But he continued to try. Each night he would tirelessly walk through the dead landscape, and each day he would do his best to shield himself from the harsh, hot rays of the sun.

The irony of the situation was not lost on him. He had, essentially, been born in this desert. In the caverns, his fate was sealed. But when Porrim carried him above ground, he had been given hope. Porrim had given him life. Now here, in the same desert where he was born, he would die.

By the twenty-eighth night, he was hallucinating.

Up ahead of him, the desert suddenly gave way to the ocean. He could see an ornate fuchsia palace, poised on a small island. The pink moon hovered just above it. The green moon was entirely absent.

Kankri hurried towards it, but the palace only got farther and farther away. He was sprinting, desperately trying to catch it. To get food, to get water, to get help. It was always safe in the castle. They would open the doors for him, and he'd collapse on the familiar coral-colored tile and they would help him...

"It ain't real, idiot." Suddenly Meenah was standing beside him. He froze and turned to look at her. She had her trident in hand. Instinctively, he took a step back. She smirked. "Heh, you afraid nubs? I don't blame ya. I got you good."

"What?" Kankri asked.

She rolled her eyes. "I know ya remember. During the game? I killed ya to get things going again. Didn't really work, I guess, but it sure made Porrim itch for a fight. That buzzbug was mad as hell."

"I don't understand," he said. His first vision had been of Meenah stabbing him and killing him. But he didn't understand how it connected with this mysterious game. "What game? Get what going again?"

"Jeez, nubs, how hard did you hit your head when your meteor landed?" She walked over and rapped her knuckles against his head. "The game, squid-brain. Sgrub. It got boring after a sweep and a half. Nobody was doing shit. So I had to try and make everyone get competitive again."

Kankri stared at her. "So...you killed me?"

"Not like I killed ya permanently." Meenah shrugged. "I knew Porrim was scopin' around on your planet. Made sure she was nice and close when I got you, so she could kiss you. I could have just let ya die, I guess. But we were were broodsiblings once, so I couldn't just murder you in cold blood. Bitch has to have some standards, ya know?"

Every word she said only confused him more. "Broodsiblings...?"

"Wrigglers culled by the same highblood. Come on, nubs, you know this shit," Meenah said, setting her hands on her hips. "Feferi snatched up both of us so she could have an heir and a mutant to show off at parties."

He remembered Empress Feferi. She was good. She was kind. She was-

_A neglectful, privileged custodian who thought that all lowbloods needed to be taken care of and looked after because they were incapable of making intelligent and rational decisions for themselves. He, being lower than even the lowest lowblood, was considered so foolish that he was babied and pampered like some sort of pet while Meenah was actually given respect and listened to and she never appreciated that not once what he wouldn't give to be in her situation, to actually have people shut up and listen when he spoke-_

"What the hell...?" he said aloud, gripping his head. It was like another person was in his head.

Meenah grinned. "That's cause there is another person in your head, nubs. It's you."

She vanished.

*

He collapsed on to the ground. The desert was slowly turning from dry, hot land to sandy dunes. The sand was soft, at least. He closed his eyes. Death was creeping upon him, slowly and silently. Kankri would die in his sleep. That wouldn't be so bad. It was better than bleeding to death, or blowing up. It was quiet. Easy.

"Kankri," said a voice.

He opened his eyes. The Handmaid hovered over him. He knew her face.

"Damara," he whispered. "Are you here to take me?"

She shook her head. "No. You are not allowed to die. Not yet. There is much to do. Much _you_ must do. Then you may die."

His eyes drifted closed again. When he reopened them, she was gone. A bowl of water had been left in her place. Kankri gulped it down as fast as he could. It was cold, clear, and fresh. It was amazing. Minutes after quenching his thirst, he laid back on the sand and slept.

*

A few nights later, thirst and delirium were taking hold again. The mysterious gift had sated his thirst only momentarily. It had brought him back from the brink of the abyss, but it did not deliver him from it. He wandered through the sand, stumbling and having conversations with trolls that weren't there.

A troll who looked exactly like him stood by and watched as he struggled to get up a dune. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Surely there is a better way to go about this."

"Shut up," Kankri hissed, falling to his knees. "You aren't real. Shut up."

The other Kankri raised an eyebrow. "Of course I'm real. I'm you."

"I'm not you!" Kankri snarled.

"You have my thoughts," said his doppelganger. "My memories. You've always had them, and you know it. You remember."

Kankri grabbed a fistful of sand and tossed it at his double. The other Kankri frowned, brushing it off of his ridiculously high-waisted pants. "Really? Resorting to violence? I would have thought my post-Scratch self wouldn't be so...oppressive."

"What in the hell is the Scratch?!" Kankri demanded.

His double walked over and knelt beside him. "You have my memories. Find out for yourself. Just think. I know it can be difficult for someone like yourself, but the memories are there. You've been seeing them your entire life."

"My visions...?" Kankri said, staring at him.

"Are my memories," confirmed the other Kankri. "Our memories. We are the same person."

"How can we be the same person?" Kankri frowned. "None of this makes any sense. Broodsiblings? Sgrub? The Scratch? How does any of this make any sense whatsoever?"

His double sighed. "If you would make an attempt to remember, you would find it would be shockingly easy. Because – once again – we are the same person."

"If I try to remember," Kankri growled, "will you go away?"

"Perhaps," said the other Kankri.

Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes. His entire body was aching. His head, his legs, his arms. Everything. He needed food, he needed water. But at that moment, Kankri pushed past that. He reached into the recesses of his mind, searching for something that might offer answers. Slowly, vague memories began to take form. The long corridors of the fuchsia castle. Books on the floor. Long conversations on his husktop. The moon – the pink moon, the only moon – splashing light on to his floor.

And then, the flood gates were opened. All at once, Kankri remembered everything.

He screamed.


	15. The Signless

A shadow appeared in the city.

He could be found in the dirtiest, lowest districts. He sat amongst the living skeletons, the orphaned wrigglers, the sick, and the dying. Wherever the poor and downtrodden gathered, he was there. This figure wore no color aside from black or gray. He had no sign, and his face was typically obscured by the hood of his cloak. Slowly interest began to spread. No one knew who he was or where he had come from, but there was plenty of speculation. They attempted to come up with an explanation as to why someone would not display their sign, which was as much a part of a troll's identity as their name. Some thought he was a lowblood who had rejected a highblood's romantic advances and was in hiding, others said he was a highblood in disgrace.

Many thought he would be culled fairly quickly. Not displaying your blood color and sign was highly illegal, and as with most laws on Alternia, the penalty for disobeying was death. But the troll without a sign remained. Soon the residents of the lower districts gave him a name, as they presumed he did not have one of his own. They called him the Signless.

Mituna had heard about the Signless multiple times since his first appearance. But he had never seen him. In truth, he doubted that such a troll even existed. No one could avoid the drones for that long. It didn't seem possible to him.

Until one night, where he came face-to-face with him.

It was in the industrial district, where many of the lowbloods worked. He and the other psionics of the city worked at a power plant. It was awful, mind-breaking work. The pay was almost nonexistent, and they were slaves in all but name. Yet it was still better than the alternative, which was the nightmarish prospect of becoming a helmsman.

Work for the night had just ended. Mituna was beginning his journey back to his hivestem. Work had exhausted him. He stared blankly ahead, his feet moving without needing to be told where to go. His head was pounding. And though he saw the small band of highbloods waiting on the corner, he could not bring himself to care. All Mituna could do was hope that they had decided to target someone else and would let him pass. Of course, this was not the case.

One of them grabbed his arm and yanked him back.

"Hey, psionic," one of them said, smirking. "Did you get your pay tonight?"

You know I did, you fucking idiot, he thought. The highbloods in the industrial district were often overseers in the factories. They always seemed restless and young compared to their more experienced counterparts in the richer parts of the city. These jobs were temporary, training for their futures as factory owners and entrepreneurs. They were learning the convoluted political system that was ingrained in everything highbloods did. From the moment they could talk they were learning to scheme against each other.

"Hey," another said. "She asked you a question."

"Yes, I did," Mituna grumbled in response.

"Hand it over," said the first, holding out her hand expectantly. She smirked. God, it was all a game to them. It wasn't as though they needed the money. They were just taking it because they could. Meanwhile Mituna was just expected to go hungry because some highblood wanted to feel powerful for two minutes.

Well, not tonight.

"No," he said.

The highbloods stared at him first with shock, then with anger.

"The hell did you say?" asked the girl. She grabbed him by the front of his suit and narrowed her blue eyes at him.

"You aren't getting my pay," Mituna said, glaring at her. "So fuck off-"

Moments later he was on the ground. The girl was drawing a pistol from her belt and aiming it at his head. She was going to kill him. All because he refused to give her a small amount of money that she did not need, but he desperately required. Suddenly Mituna was filled with nothing but rage. She was going to kill him, and nothing was going to happen to her. At most she would briefly reprimanded for offing a worker before being sent back to her own duties. Then one night when she was older she would lie and backstab her way into owning her own factory and she'd live the rest of her life in luxury without knowing hunger or pain or true fear-

Someone ran over and slammed their shoulder into her.

She was not expecting the impact and stumbled back. Her attacker used the opportunity to snatch the pistol from her hand. Then he reached down, grabbed Mituna by the wrist, and wrenched him to his feet. Moments later Mituna was being dragged down the road while the highbloods pursued. As they rounded the a corner, his rescuer tossed the pistol up on to a roof.

They ran down alley after alley, hurrying and weaving through the low districts until they were certain they were no longer being followed. When they finally stopped, Mituna fell to his knees panting. A long night at the plant had drained him. Adding physical exertion on top of that had not helped matters at all.

His savior was a short troll around his age. He was wearing old, ragged clothes of black and gray. He wore a cloak, and his hood had fallen back during their mad dash to escape the enraged highbloods. Mituna still could not have told you what his face looked like, however. His gaze was immediately drawn to the troll's eyes. They were the brightest red he'd ever seen in his life, like red hot flames.

The troll glanced down the alley, frowning. "I think we've lost them. Are you alright- _Mituna_?"

Mituna stared at him. The troll stared down at him as though he were seeing him for the first time. His blazing eyes were wide with shock. For a moment Mituna was shocked as well. Then he glared at him suspiciously. "How the fuck do you know my name?"

"I..." The Signless (Mituna was certain this was him; there was no sign or caste identifier on his clothing.) seemed at a loss for words. Instead of answering the question, he offered him his hand and pulled Mituna to his feet. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Mituna grumbled. "I've got maybe three nights to live, but I'm fine. And you didn't answer my fucking question. How do you know my name?"

The Signless sighed. "I just...I know things, sometimes. It's difficult to explain."

"You 'just know things'?" Mituna repeated, skeptical. "What else do you know?"

His rescuer frowned slightly, pulling his hood back over his head. Even though his eyes were once again obscured, Mituna could still feel them burning into him. "I know that you are a powerful psionic, yet you didn't do anything to defend yourself back there. You could have vaporized them. But you didn't."

"I was dead either way!" Mituna snapped. "If you fight back, they kill you. If you don't fight back, they kill you. That's how it works. All you did was give me a couple of nights to let them think up something especially painful. For _both_ of us."

"I've faced worse than three angry highbloods," the Signless responded. "I'm sure you have, too."

"Why did you even bother helping me?" Mituna demanded. It didn't make any sense. No one ever did anything that stupid. On Alternia, it was every troll for themselves. Friends were often enemies, and trust was scarce. It was unheard of for a stranger to help someone for no apparent reason. Mituna had nothing to offer this troll, and something told him that the Signless knew that. So why bother?

The Signless looked away, glancing back down the alley as though he were watching for their pursuers once more. "I came here to see what Alternia is truly like. I've been in this city for half a sweep, and I've seen so much death. Everywhere you look it's nothing but death and misery. Sickness, starvation, violence. Four nights ago I watched two wrigglers fight to the death over a piece of meat. Two nights ago I watched a drone cut a troll in half for having a cough. Then tonight I saw you about to get your brains blown out. And something in me...I don't know. Snapped. I just knew I couldn't let her shoot you. I was done watching. I wanted to start _doing_."

Mituna stared at him. "You're fucking insane, aren't you?"

To his surprise, the troll laughed. He looked back towards Mituna. Once again, he could feel those eyes burning into him. " _I'm_ the insane one? You were the one who said no to a highblood. You knew they would kill you for that. So why do it? Why not give them whatever they wanted?"

"They wanted my pay," Mituna growled. "I can barely make it by as it is. And they don't need it. They barely do anything to earn their own money. When she demanded I give it to her I just-"

"Snapped?" the Signless ventured.

Mituna frowned at him and opened his mouth to speak, then froze. Well, he had a point there. "Ok, so I'm insane too. What's your point?"

"You're tired of the way things are. You're tired of living in fear of them. You're tired of your life being worth less than theirs, just because your blood is yellow and theirs is blue," the Signless said. "You don't want to live in a world where someone can demand the pay you worked hard for. You don't want to live in a world where someone can pay you next to nothing for a job that will kill you in ten sweeps. You're tired of it too, Mituna. And you aren't alone."

"What are you saying? This is the way it is. The way it's _always_ been." Mituna asked, stepping back once. He was beginning to think this person was completely, legitimately insane.

"Just because something has always been, does not mean it always will be," replied the Signless. "For eons Alternia was an isolationist planet. Then, one night, we became intergalactic conquerors on the word of an Empress. Change can happen in the blink of an eye. Why do you think they put all these restrictions on us? Why do you think they cull anyone who is even remotely different, and kill anyone who speaks against them or disobeys? Because they know just have fragile their system is. All it takes is a few trolls. Then their hemospectrum comes falling down."

Mituna frowned. "A few trolls, against all of them?"

"It's not just a few. I've been living on the streets, speaking to the lowest of the low. They all want the same thing. They all want freedom. But they believe that they're alone," the Signless explained. "Besides, look around. How many lowbloods do you see in the city? There's at least ten for every highblood. And that's not including the midbloods. They're outnumbered, Mituna. And they know it."

"You really are insane," Mituna said, staring at him in shock. "What the fuck do you think we should do? Reverse it so we're all on top?"

"No!" the Signless said, shaking his head. "Get rid of the hemospectrum altogether. Make everyone equal."

He couldn't help it. He laughed. "Oh my God. That's the funniest thing I've heard in sweeps. Equal to the highbloods? You actually think that could happen?"

"Yes, I do," the Signless said seriously. "Why should you, a powerful psionic, waste your life slaving away for highbloods? Why should any of us? What makes them better than you or me? Their blood? I have known highbloods my entire life, and they are no different from any of the lowbloods or midbloods I know."

"You know highbloods?" Mituna scoffed. "Let me guess, you're friends with them?"

"In a way," the Signless replied, shrugging. "They were the ones who first showed me that all colors could live and work together as equals."

"It's impossible," Mituna said.

The Signless frowned. Then, suddenly, he seemed to get an idea. A smile spread across his face. "Perhaps if I show you, you'll believe me."

"Show me? You mean drag me off to who knows where to see an 'equal' society that only exists in your broken, batshit crazy mind?" Mituna asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Though, in truth, he was more than a little curious. Was it really possible? It seemed like a wriggler's fantasy. And yet...

The Signless nodded. "Yes. I suppose it's time I went back. They probably think I'm dead, at this point...besides. Where else are you going to go? Those highbloods will be hunting us both down soon enough. We might as well get out of the city while we can."

Well, he couldn't argue with that. Mituna sighed, rubbing his still-aching head. "Where the fuck is this place, then?"

"This time of year?" the Signless frowned, trying to think. "It's third summer, so that means they'll be on their way to our third camp. So north."

"You mean...into the woods?" Mituna asked. "What, are these people feral or something?"

The Signless grinned sheepishly.

"...holy fucking shit." He took a few steps back, his eyes growing wide. "You're a wildling?! How the fuck- oh hell no. There is no way. _None_. I'm not running off into the middle of nowhere with some troll who doesn't have a name to get eaten by a bunch of ferals-"

"Of course I have a name," the Signless said, frowning. "And we don't eat people. Ferals aren't beasts, you know. They're just trolls that can't live in places like these."

"Because they're cannibals," Mituna remarked.

"No." The Signless sighed and shook his head. "Ferals – the ones I know, at least – are trolls like you and me. They're people that snapped, or were never welcome in society to begin with. They get sick of not fighting back or of hurting others for no reason. They run to the wilderness because otherwise they'll be culled for having a mutation. They're slaves that can't take the pain anymore. They're just like you and me."

Mituna stared at him. He'd always heard that ferals were wild savages who drooled and ate anything that moved. But, then again, he'd also been told that there was no way for trolls of different blood colors to live as equals. "And where do you fit into that?"

"I'm..." the Signless hesitated. "I'm a mutant."

"You don't look like one," he said skeptically.

The Signless paused, then slowly pulled out a sickle. It was a threshecutioner's weapon, which made him step back. "Relax. This was a gift."

"Are you sure you didn't kill a thresher and loot their body?" Mituna asked, staring at the dark metal of the blade.

"I'm sure," answered the troll. He took the sickle and made a light cut on his palm. Then the weapon was hidden away again underneath his cloak. He held up his hand. Blood was slowly beginning to ooze from the cut. A bead of candy red blood rolled down his palm. Mituna's eyes widened.

No wonder he didn't have a sign. He didn't even have a place on the hemospectrum to begin with.

"I've just entrusted you with the second-biggest secret I have," the Signless said. "I just put my life in your hands. Now I'm asking you to do the same. Let me show you how other trolls live. Let me show you what Alternia could be like."

Mituna couldn't stop staring at the candy red blood. It was impossible. Absolutely impossible. "You...how are you even _alive_?"

"It's a long story," the Signless said, smiling slightly. He ripped off part of his cloak, wrapping the piece of cloth tightly around the cut. "I can tell you on the way to camp, if you're interested. We have quite a way to go. If you trust me."

The Signless offered Mituna his bandaged hand. Hesitantly, without even knowing why he did it, he reached out and shook it. "...you said you had a name, right? What is it then?"

His new friend smiled. "My name is Kankri Vantas. It's a pleasure to meet you."


	16. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while since the last update. But I have a bit more free time now and a whole lot of inspiration. So hopefully I can get back to regular updates now.

Meulin walked down to the stream and dipped the clay pot into the cool, clear water. Third summer was in full swing, and with it came the punishing heat. When the jar was full, she balanced it carefully on her head between her horns. Typically she was relegated to hunting, but for once the Tribe had enough food to go around. There were five or six large beasts hanging in the camp waiting to be butchered, while another four had already been skinned, cut, and preserved for consumption. They had several hundred pounds of meat waiting to be eaten, not to mention a large assortment of plump berries and fruits. Meulin could not remember the last time they had not been worried about getting food. In fact, she was quite sure they had never experienced a period of plenty in all her time with the Tribe.

She began to walk back up the path. The soil was still warm against her bare feet, even though the sun had set hours ago. Third summer was typically the worst in the sweep. The heat persisted well into the night, and permeated everything. It was why she – one of the best hunters in the Tribe – was now on water duty. Food was no longer an issue, but water was. They were using it faster than they could get it.

Being on water duty made Meulin think of her first few nights in the Tribe, where she they tested her skills to see where she would be best suited. She remembered walking with Kankri down to a river, each of them chattering and carrying clay pots almost as big as they were. Before they reached the water, something triggered a vision and he collapsed.

She sighed slightly. Kankri had been gone for over half a sweep now. Most of the Tribe thought he was dead. Even Porrim was beginning to lose faith. But Meulin knew that, somehow, he was still alive. Just because he disappeared into the desert didn't automatically mean he was gone for good. Lost, perhaps, or injured. But not dead. She refused to believe that. Kankri was alive somewhere. Why he hadn't come and found them, she didn't know. But she knew he was out there.  
Meulin reached the camp and set down her jar. A bit of water sloshed out on to her feet. She smiled and wiggled her toes. Then she went to go pick up the next empty jug. She turned and began to walk back to the river. In the distance she could hear a small group singing as they worked. Once again, she thought of Kankri. She remembered hearing his soft voice among those of the foragers. It was amazing how much she missed him. Ever since they met, they'd been inseparable. Kankri was her constant companion. She wanted to tell him about how her night had gone, what she had killed and how, and hear if he had any visions. It didn't occur to her what an integral part of her life he had been until he was out of it.

Once again she knelt down beside the river and dipped a clay jar into the waters. Across the way, she heard the rustling of leaves.

Meulin froze and stared across the river. She listened, and heard it again. This time it was accompanied by the sound of a twig snapping and a loud swear in a voice she did not recognize. Meulin growled deep in the back of her throat. The rustling continued, until a figure in bright yellow came stumbling out on the opposite side of the river.

The figure in yellow turned around as if to speak to someone, then froze when he realized he was being watched. He turned and looked at her, eyes red and blue eyes growing wide. A psionic. She would have to be careful. But before she could alert the others, another troll joined him. This one was much shorter, in ratty clothes of black and gray-

Meulin froze. "Kankri?"

The shorter troll pulled back his hood and grinned brightly. "Meulin!"

Both of them rushed forward on some unbidden signal. They met in the middle of the river, which came up to their waists at its deepest point. The water slowed Meulin down, but she still managed to tackle Kankri. They both went under. When they resurfaced, they had their arms wrapped tightly around each other.

"I missed you!" she said.

"I missed you too," he said, grinning. They were both now soaking wet, but neither seemed to notice or care.

Without warning she pressed a kiss against his lips. He returned it eagerly, and for a moment Meulin forgot all other concerns. It felt so natural to be there, holding him and kissing him. When they finally separated, they remembered that they were not entirely alone.

The psionic stood there on the bank, unsure what do or say. Meulin narrowed her eyes at him again. "Who is he?"

"Mituna," Kankri said simply, as though she already knew him.

And in truth she did. For sweeps she'd heard about the strange trolls Kankri saw in his visions and dreams, Mituna being one of them. The name struck her like a bolt of lightning. This was the third troll he had recognized from his strange visions. Once as a little wriggler she had decided that Kankri could see the future. Now she wasn't so sure. But whatever it was, Kankri saw something.

"Mituna," she repeated quietly.

"Yes," said Mituna.

She looked him over. He definitely stood out. He was tall, skinny, and gangly. He had a bright yellow suit on with his sign displayed broadly across his chest. His suit was torn and ripped here and there, and his black boots were stained with red mud. He was sweating and tired-looking. Kankri in contrast looked perfectly at home, despite being both soaking wet and bedraggled.

"He's a brave troll," Kankri said. "He stood up to a whole group of highbloods. And then went into the wilderness with a cannibal."

Mituna snorted. "Some shitty cannibal you would be. You ate nothing but roots and berries on the whole trip. How can a troll even live on that?"

"We have to," Meulin said. "It's our way."

She looked to Kankri. It seemed so surreal to have him standing beside her in the river, water dripping from his hair. It had been so long and here he was as though he had never left. "We've been so worried about you, you know. Everyone thought you were dead. Porrim and I didn't, but she started losing hope when you didn't find your way back to us."  
"I have a lot of explaining to do," he said, sighing slightly. It was only then that she noticed that something was different about him. Something about his eyes. Physically they were the same, though perhaps the last few flecks of gray had finally left his irises. But they had a different look to them now. She set her hand on his cheek, trying to place what it was. Then she realized: it was wisdom. Kankri's face was that of a nine sweep old troll, going on ten. But his eyes declared him to be much, much older. What had he seen since he left them? What had he done?

Mituna coughed loudly, once again reminding the two of them that they weren't alone. She withdrew her hand from his cheek and glanced at him. Was this really the troll from Kankri's visions? How did he meet him? Why did he bring him here?

She wanted to hear the answers right then, but she'd just have to wait. Kankri would tell her everything in time.

*

Meulin sat on her knees beside Kankri. The night's work had been finished, and everyone returned to camp to find Kankri waiting with Meulin and a stranger. They were astounded; this was the second time everyone had thought him dead, and the second time he proved them wrong. Even more astonishing was, for the second time, Kankri had returned with a stranger. Mituna seemed uneasy as people began to filter back into the camp. She watched him warily, wondering if he would snap and attack.

When Kennoe, Jupaza, and Kiroph returned to camp, Kankri approached them to explain Mituna's presence. Moments later they all vanished into Kennoe's tent with Mituna in tow. Meulin sat with Porrim while they deliberated, knowing that Kankri was pleading this psionic's case the best he could. Meanwhile, everyone else was buzzing about Kankri's unexpected return.

"I'm going to kill him," Porrim hissed. "If he was alive all this time, why didn't he come find us? He knows where the camps are, and he knows how to get there."

"Maybe something happened," Meulin suggested. "Maybe he got so lost in the desert he didn't know which way was up."

"I hope for his sake he has a good reason," Porrim said, frowning. "He knows how dangerous it is out there. Especially for someone like him. What if he had one of his fainting spells and someone found him? Do you have any idea what they do to people who are different or weak or-"

Meulin grabbed Porrim's hand, trying to comfort her. "He's back now. And in one piece."

"He won't be for long if he doesn't explain himself properly," Porrim grumbled.

A few minutes later the last three Council members emerged with Kankri and Mituna. Kiroph stepped up to the fire, and a hush went through the Tribe. Mituna stood beside him, looking extremely out of place among the rest of them. And from the look on his face, he knew it.

"Tonight we've decided to allow entry to this troll: Mituna Captor. Tomorrow he will begin work with us." Kiroph motioned for Mituna to go sit, and he hesitated for a moment. Finally he took a seat beside Meulin, who attempted to smile. She knew Kankri trusted this troll, so she would be pleasant for his sake. But she wasn't so sure he was truly a friend to them. The last time they had encountered a troll that Kankri knew from his dreams, he'd beaten Kankri in the middle of a street while an entire crowd looked on and laughed.

"Now, nubs, I think you've got some explaining to do," Kennoe said, nudging Kankri's shoulder.

He glanced out at the Tribe, and his eyes briefly met Meulin's. She smiled. He smiled back.

"I...would prefer to wait till tomorrow night," Kankri said, looking back towards them. "I need to receive a beating from my custodian before I speak to everyone."

The others laughed. Porrim did not.

"Works for me," Kennoe said, shrugging. "First thing tomorrow night. Everyone else, as you were."

The Tribe went back to talking and munching on their rations. Meulin saw Mituna staring hungrily at the piece of meat in her hands. He had done no work yet, and thus deserved no food. But she took pity on him and handed over what she had. "Here; you look as though you've had a long journey."

Mituna took it and scarfed it down, then glanced at her sheepishly. "Uh. Thanks. I guess."

"I don't think I ever told you my name," she said, smiling. "It's Meulin."

"Are you Kankri's matesprit?" he asked, wiping off his mouth with his sleeve.

Now that was a good question. Before Kankri had left, they had been flirting nonstop. And as soon as he'd returned, they shared a kiss in the river. Did that make them matesprits, she wondered? It'd be one of the many things they'd have to discuss. Hopefully they would get a chance by the end of the evening. But for the time being, she did not have an answer for Mituna. So she simply shrugged and threw another piece of wood on the fire.


	17. Take Me Down

“I do hope you've got a good reason for making me think you were dead for almost an entire sweep,” Porrim said, crossing her arms over her chest as she paced in front of him. She stopped momentarily and narrowed her jade green eyes at him. “Do you understand how worried I was? How worried Meulin was? She cares about you, you know, and you just- I can't believe you. You could have found us at any time, you knew where the camp was-”

“Mother, Mother please. Just. Sit down,” Kankri asked. He patted the grass beside him. “I'll explain everything.”

She frowned again, then slowly sat beside him. “Then explain.”

Kankri sighed and glanced up at the sky. The stars stretched out above them with no city lights or smog to hide them. He was tired, he was hungry, and he was more than ready to explain everything. But he wasn't sure if she would believe him. “I want to tell you something that I probably should have told you a long time ago. About my...fainting spells.”

“I don't see what this has to do with where you were,” Porrim said, irritated.

“You will,” he promised. “I've gotten better at suppressing them. But. Whenever I fainted, I would have...visions.”

His custodian raised her eyebrows. “Visions? Kankri, what are you talking about?”

“Remember my dream friends?” he said. “From when I was a wriggler?”

A look of confusion passed over her face. She stared at him, not understanding the direction this conversation had taken. “Yes, I remember. You had names for them and...Kankri, I don't understand. What kind of visions? What do they have to do with your imaginary friends?”

“My visions felt like memories,” Kankri explained. “And they always involved my 'dream friends': Damara, Rufioh, Mituna, Meulin, Porrim, Latula, Aranea, Horuss, Kurloz, Cronus, and Meenah. Porrim looked like you, acted like you, but in my visions she was always my age. You were the same, but you were completely different.”

“Get to the point, Kankri, please,” Porrim said impatiently.

“The things that I would see...they were from a different world. Another time. A past life,” Kankri said, looking at her. “I know that sounds crazy but when I was in the desert, I remembered everything. Who I used to be. I have these fainting spells, these visions, because...part of me...is rejecting what happened. Half of me wants to be who I was, half of me wants to be who I am now. At least. That was the way I thought of it in the desert.”

Her eyes grew wide. “I...you think...you think that you-”

“I know,” Kankri said, frowning. “I knew who Meulin was when I met her. Same with Mituna. I knew that sea-dweller in the city. And you raised me. We all had lives before, and we're all connected.”

Porrim grew silent and looked down. For a moment, she said absolutely nothing. Then she looked up and frowned at him. “And this is what kept you from me for a sweep?”

“More so the resulting identity crisis,” he answered. “Like I said. Half of me was here and half of me...really didn't want to be.”

“If you had a past life – if I did and Meulin and your little friend did – why are you the only one that remembers it? And what about the others you've mentioned? Where are they? Do they remember?” Porrim asked, frowning.

“I don't know where all of them are,” Kankri said. “And I don't know why I can remember and you can't. I think it has something to do with my blood. Or maybe I'm just meant to remember.”

Porrim frowned, and her son knew this was difficult for her to take in. All his life she had thought his 'condition' was simply some sort of genetic anomaly. She thought that deep in his DNA there was something off, something that stemmed from his blood. It was easier to believe that Kankri was simply sick rather than...this. 

“...are you sure you aren't just crazy?” Porrim asked, attempting to smile.

“Fairly sure,” Kankri replied. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, and I'm sorry I stayed away for so long. I just...I needed time to sort myself out.”

Porrim frowned. “What did you do for so long?”

He hesitated to tell her. Kankri knew she wouldn't like the answer, but he was always awful when it came to lying. “I went to the city.”

“The city!? Kankri, are you _insane_ -”

“Mother, it's ok. I'm ok,” Kankri said, trying to placate her. “I had to see what life out there is really like. I had to. And I saw everything. Starvation, cullings, beatings, murders, rapes...Mother, it's like a great big pit that holds all the world's misery. All I could do was stand on the edge and look into it. And that was just one city.”

His mother shook her head. “I can't believe you, Kankri! Do you know how much danger you were in?” 

“Yes, I do,” Kankri said, frowning. “Every minute of every night I had to watch my back. I was always looking over my shoulder, always having to be careful. And...I want to thank you.”

Porrim raised an eyebrow. “Thank me? For what?”

“I wouldn't be here if you hadn't rescued me,” Kankri said. “And if I was, it wouldn't be a very peaceful life. So...thank you. For saving me. And for raising me. And for sacrificing so much for me. I haven't said that before, and I should have been saying it every single night. You saved me from the world.”

The sudden show of gratitude took Porrim by surprise. She stared at Kankri, who smiled slightly at her. “Kankri...”

He hugged her, and she returned it. “I love you, Mother.”

“I love you too,” she said, kissing his cheek. It occurred to both of them, very briefly, that the love they shared was unlike any other relationship in all of Alternia. No trolls had a relationship like theirs, and that made their bond all the more deeper. Perhaps that was why, deep down, she felt that Kankri was telling the truth about where he had been and why. “...I'm still mad at you, you know.”

Kankri laughed. “I figured.”

*

The next night Kankri returned to work. It was odd to be back among his people, working towards their mutual survival. He had grown used to the grimy muck of the city, and now he was met with fresh air and hilly forests. It rejuvenated him. Kankri had left civilization just in time; he needed a reminder that life was good somewhere. Hard, tiring, but good. Here he had friends who cared about him. Here he had a custodian, here he had a purpose.

But he was unable to fully belong with them.

Kankri glanced at the other foragers. They were hunting for medicinal herbs, as food was still bountiful. The group was small but merry. The others sang as they worked. The songs were of the Tribe's own invention, as far as he knew. Most of them were about work, since it dominated the life of everyone in the Tribe. But there were others, often about nature or love or hate or the freedom of the wild. It was so refreshing to hear those familiar songs again. Yet he felt as though he were watching and hearing them through a window. He could see it, he could hear it, but he couldn't be a part of it.

He dug his hands into soil, digging away to get to a plant's roots. Once he'd liberated them from the ground, Kankri briefly inspected them to make sure they were suitable for use. Then he tossed them into the basket.

The work was so familiar to him that Kankri could do it without even thinking. It allowed his mind to wander, which was something he'd been hoping to avoid. For over half a sweep his mind had been wandering between two different worlds. He thought of Beforus, and the life he had known there. Kankri had never realized how much he had taken for granted. The problems he had attempted to 'fix' paled in comparison to those of Alternia. They were, of course, still problems. All throughout his life Kankri had been coddled and condescended to due to his blood color. But that was not quite as bad as being at risk of getting cut in half by a drone. It was the difference between getting bitten by a beast and having your throat ripped out by it. Both are bad, but one is decidedly worse.

Once again, Kankri felt an unbearable weight sinking down on to his shoulders. He began to feel as though he were holding up the sky. Alternia had to have been created by the Scratch, which meant this world came from his and his friend's actions. 

They'd performed the Scratch to save their species from extinction. In the process, they'd caused the misery and suffering of millions of trolls. 

_Is it worth it? Is the suffering of millions worth the chance that we'll survive_? Kankri thought, pulling another plant from the soil. _At this rate, our people won't even be worth saving_.

Part of the reason he had gone to the city was to see the suffering. He wanted to see the world he had helped create. Kankri felt personally responsible for Alternia's creation. After all, he had helped orchestrate the Scratch. Of course he could not have done it alone, and the blame did not entirely fall upon him. But he was the only one who could remember his part in it. Perhaps if the others remembered they could help him with this heavy burden. But until that happened (if it happened) Kankri alone had to stand with the weight of the sky on his shoulders.

Someone brushed against his arm. He glanced over and found Meulin was beside him. She smiled, her long hair falling down to partially obscure her face. Kankri couldn't help but smile back.

“You look like you're thinking hard,” she said. 

“I am,” he replied. 

“About?” she said, raising her eyebrows. 

He hesitated. Kankri still hadn't told her where he had been and why. She hadn't pressed him, trusting him to tell her when he was ready. “I'll tell you later tonight, after we eat.”

Meulin's eyes brightened. “Alright.”

So they both went back to work. Kankri tried to turn his thoughts away from Alternia and Beforus, and instead turned them towards the trolls around them. They were a small group, smaller than they had been when Kankri was young. He loved them. He loved them all so, so much. From Kennoe, who had always been so friendly and caring, to Jupaza, who was as stern and unbending as a rock. Even Mituna – who was working slowly and clumsily – already seemed as though he belonged. They were his people, even though he felt as though he didn't fully 'fit' with them. Kankri smiled at them, and quietly began to pick up one of their foraging songs.

“ _I have seen what trolls can do_ ,” he sang quietly, “ _when the evil lives inside of you. Many are the weak, and the strong are few_.”

Meulin joined in right away. “ _But with the water, we'll start anew_.”

The others took up the song, going right into the chorus. Mituna simply stared at them. He did not know any of their songs, and still found the concept of singing during work to be strange. Kankri smiled at him and went back to singing, raising his soft voice with the others.

“ _Well, won't you take me down to the levy,_  
 _Take me down to the stream_  
 _Take me down to the water_  
 _We're gonna wash our souls clean_ ”

*

After rations were passed out, Kankri and Meulin slipped away with their food. They considered themselves to be sneaky, but the entirety of the Tribe saw them 'slip off' together. It made for excellent dinner conversation back at the camp, and a great many jokes were made about the pair.

Together Kankri and Meulin went to a grassy hill. The sky stretched out far above them, and both of the moons were full. For a few minutes they simply sat beside each other and ate their food. When they finished, Meulin rested her head on his shoulder.

“Why were you gone for so long?” she asked.

So he explained. He told her everything: his realization, Beforus, Sgrub, even his encounter with Damara (which he had not told his mother about). He talked and talked, his voice filling the night air. Meulin listened attentively, her head still resting on his shoulder. When he finally finished, they were both silent for a long time. The sun was beginning to bleach away the stars on the eastern horizon. 

“I believe you,” she said suddenly.

“You do?” he asked. 

She nodded. “It explains everything.”

He let out a sigh of relief. Kankri knew his story was hard to believe. His mother was still trying to wrap her head around it, and he wasn't sure if she would ever truly understand. But something told him that Meulin already did.

“You don't know how much I missed you while I was gone,” Kankri said. “I wanted to come back but...I couldn't bring myself to.”

“I understand,” she said. She grabbed his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. “Just know that next time you want to go running off into something dangerous, you better count on taking me with you. Got it?”

Kankri smiled. “I swear next time I decide to run straight into danger, you'll be the first to know.”

They both chuckled, and Meulin smiled at him. “Kankri...do you love me?”

The question was a bit unexpected. Not because it was sudden, but because he thought she already knew the answer. Kankri stared at her for a moment, then smiled back at her. “Of course I love you. I thought it was obvious.”

She purred loudly, once again resting her head against his shoulder. “I love you too.”

Kankri squeezed her hand in his. They both looked out at the horizon. The sun was rising quickly. Soon they would have to go back to camp. But, for the moment, they simply sat with each other. For the first time since his revelation, Kankri felt truly at peace. And while he did not feel as though he fully belonged in this world, he knew that he belonged with Meulin. If only everyone could feel like this. If only other trolls could know what it was like to live in an equal society like the Tribe. If only they could actually trust friends, and provide a network to keep each other safe and fed. If only they could know a love as pure as the one he felt with Meulin.

If only everyone else could see what he saw: community, love, and equality. 

“...Meulin,” he said. “I think I'm going to be running into danger again.”

She looked at him. “Wow, already?”

Kankri grinned. “I want to let everyone know what this feels like. To feel safe, protected, and happy. I want to change this planet. That's why I remember. I know what it was like on Beforus, I know trolls can be peaceful. But we'll be better than Beforus.”

As she listened to him speak, her eyes lit up. She wasn't sure what he was proposing, but she liked the sound of it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, getting to his feet, “we're going to abolish the caste system.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used in this chapter is "Nothing But the Water (I)" by Grace Potter and the Nocturnals.


	18. Explanations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 4/13!

Mituna knelt down and stared at the large clay jug. It was heavy, and he could feel the water sloshing around inside. There wasn't any way he could balance this on his head. He had seen Kankri and Meulin and many of the others do it, but he just didn't see how it was possible. So Mituna used his psionics to lift it off the ground and levitate it in the air. A blue and red aura surrounded it, and he began to head back to camp.

"I wish I could do that," Kankri said as he stepped out of the trees. He was holding a basket full of bright red flowers, which apparently had some sort of medicinal use. He appeared so suddenly that Mituna almost dropped the pot in surprise. Everyone in the Tribe – including Kankri – was extremely good at sneaking up on people. They seemed to morph into the woods and vanish, only to reappear exactly when they wanted to be seen. It was unnerving, and Mituna still half-expected one of them to try to eat him.

"It comes in handy sometimes," Mituna grumbled. Truth be told, growing up a psionic was not exactly ideal. They were forced into work a lot earlier than most trolls, and the work itself was often gruelling and mind-breaking. He'd hidden his abilities for as long as possible, but he was extremely powerful as far as psionics went. Lucky him.

Kankri shrugged slightly, then fell into step beside him. "So. What do you think of this place?"

"I think it's dangerous," Mituna said. There were so many things that could kill you in the wilds. Venomous serpents, giant beasts, plants that sting, unclean water, a fruit that looks almost identical to its edible cousin but has three leaves not two. And, of course, there was also the constant threat of being discovered.

"That's an understatement," Kankri replied, smiling slightly. "Do you still think I'm crazy?"

"Fuck yes," Mituna snorted. "Just not as crazy as before."

Kankri chuckled. "You're going to think I'm downright insane before the end of the night. The Council – that is, Kennoe, Kiroph, Jupaza, and Lacene – are wanting to hear why I was gone for so long. I was supposed to tell everyone two nights ago, but I managed to put it off."

His friend raised an eyebrow at him. "This is going to be a weird fucking story, isn't it?"

"Yep," Kankri said. "But I suppose it doesn't really matter whether or not they believe me. I'm going to be leaving again soon."

Mituna stared at him. Throughout their entire journey, Kankri had done nothing but talk about the Tribe and how much he missed it. He'd told him about Meulin, and Porrim, and Kennoe, and basically everyone else. Mituna knew everything about everyone before he even laid eyes on them, all because Kankri never shut up. "What the fuck do you mean you're leaving again?"

"There's something I have to do," Kankri said.

"And what the hell is that?" Mituna growled. "All you wanted to do was get back here, and now you want to leave again?"

Kankri sighed slightly and looked around. "Life here is good. I have people that care about me, people that have known me since I was a grub. I'm safe here. Sometimes we go hungry, or get hurt, or the weather turns severe. We move often, and never keep to the same area for long. But that's supposedly the price we pay for safety."

"Get to the point asshole," Mituna said.

"Perhaps I'm tired of hiding," Kankri said, looking up at him. "When I lived in the city, I saw the very worst of Alternian society. And I saw that they were tired of it, too. So many trolls are ready to make a change, but they're all too frightened. Understandably so."

This again. Mituna remembered Kankri saying something like that when they'd first met. Then he'd promised to take him to a place where trolls of all colors were equal. And, well, he hadn't lied. Color didn't matter amongst the Tribe. They didn't care if you were a purple blood or a red blood, so long as you did your work you were treated just the same. And despite the dangers of the wilds, Mituna liked that. Perhaps it really was possible for everyone to be equal. Kankri had told him stories of the dangers the group had faced: the threshecutioners, the fire, the sickness. They had remained together throughout all of it, a united front against the dangers of the world. They hadn't turned on each other, as one would expect.

Perhaps this group was simply an isolated incident.

Or, perhaps not.

"I want to go make a change, Mituna," Kankri said. "I want to show everyone what it could be like."

Mituna stared at him, sneering. "And how the hell are you going to do that? Go up to the Empress and ask her to completely rewrite Alternia's government?"

Kankri chuckled sligthly. "No. Meenah never listened to me before, so she most definitely won't listen to me now-"

"Who the fuck is Meenah?" Mituna asked.

"Hm?"

"You just said Meenah."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes you- ugh. Fuck it."

*

When the night's work was done, everyone gathered at the camp to receive their evening rations. Kankri took his seat between Meulin and his custodian, while Mituna sat on the other side of Meulin. The entirety of the Tribe swapped stories from the night. They talked of accidents and mishaps and gossiped about who snuck off with who. Rations were distributed, and laughter was heard all around. It was a rare moment of peace. For once they did not have to worry about food or injuries or sickness. Everyone was in good health, and they were far from any hives or cities. It was the closest thing to peace any of them had ever known.

Kankri looked around and wondered how he could want to leave it all behind.

Meulin grabbed his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. He smiled at her. Going away would not be so bad so long as Meulin was with him. He'd told her of his plan beforehand, and declared that she would be following him. His mother, however, still had no idea.

"Kankri," Kiroph said, looking towards him. It was time to offer an explanation.

His matesprit was reluctant to let go of his hand when he stood. Kankri smiled at her, trying to reassure her that everything would be ok. If what Damara said in the desert was true – that he still had much to do with his life – then tonight would go over smoothly. Jupaza, Kiroph, Kennoe, and Lacene sat next to the fire. Other talk slowly died down, and all eyes turned towards Kankri.

"I owe all of you an explanation," Kankri began. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to say, but he trusted that the right words would come to him. "I was gone for quite some time. I never meant to stay away for so long. It began when I went to get water. I found a pond, and then realized I had no idea how to get back to camp. I tried to retrace my steps, but you can guess how well that turned out."

"I don't believe you were lost in the desert for an entire sweep," Jupaza said, crossing her arms. "You would have been killed."

"I only spent about forty nights in the desert," Kankri said.

"And then where did you go? And why?" she demanded.

Now came the tricky part. He sighed. "All of you know that I have...fainting spells on occasion. More so when I was young than now. But whenever I fainted, I would have visions. Visions of...a peaceful world."

Kankri had intended to tell them the whole truth. He had wanted to. But he couldn't. They wouldn't believe him if he did. Besides, there would be no point in telling them. They weren't like Meulin or Mituna or his mother. None of them had ever played the game, and they never would.

"I saw what the world could be, and I wanted to see what it actually was. I spent time in the city, just observing...and I was horrified. I spoke with the people, and they told me their stories. They're hungry, downtrodden, alone, and angry," Kankri continued. "They're sick of the way things are. Just as we are. But they don't have the option of running to the safety of the wilds."

"You were in the city?" Jupaza demanded. "If you told anyone about us-"

"I didn't say a word about who I was or where I came from," Kankri said. "I just listened. That was all most of them needed. Someone to hear their story."

Kennoe raised her eyebrows. "And then you picked up a hitchhiker and came back to us?"

Kankri glanced at Mituna. "Something like that, yes."

"And you told no one about us? Aside from present company," Lacene said, frowning at him.

"I didn't tell anyone. No one even knew I had a name. They just called me Signless," Kankri said, chuckling slightly. "It's amazing how fast they can spot someone who isn't one of them. They're brought up to target anyone who is even minutely different. I don't believe trolls are conformists by nature. We're proof of that."

The members of the Council looked to each other. Kankri could tell from the looks on their faces that they had all accepted his explanation. Another troll might not have received such leniency, but Kankri was a special case. They had known him for the entirety of his life. They had carried him on their shoulders, taught him how to forage and fish, showed him how to start a fire and pitch a tent. They had traveled with him and watched him grow into the troll he was. No matter what they said, Kankri knew they cared about him just as much as he cared about them.

Before they could give him their decision, however, Kankri spoke up again.

"And I'm going back," Kankri said.

Everyone froze and stared at him. Several pairs of eyes stared at him in complete and total shock.

"What do you mean?" Kiroph demanded.

"I'm going back to the city. To civilization," Kankri said. "I'm sick of hiding. Of moving, of starving, of guarding myself because of something I was hatched with. And I'm not the only one. There are thousands, possibly millions, that feel the same. They just need someone to show them they aren't alone."

Lacene frowned. "Kankri, you know once someone joins the Tribe, we aren't in the business of allowing them to leave."

"I know," Kankri said. Once, when he was very young, they had come across a troll while moving to their next camp. Kankri had been in the back of the line, hitching a ride on his mother's shoulders. He had not seen the incident, but heard about it afterwards: they had asked the troll to join them, the troll refused. They couldn't allow anyone to see them and survive, so they killed him. Anyone who tried to leave the Tribe was supposed to suffer the same fate.

"But which of you will raise your hand against me?" Kankri asked, looking around.

The entire camp was silent. Kankri met everyone's eyes, silently wondering if they would be the one to step forward. But they all averted their gaze. After a few tense moments, Kennoe started to laugh. All attention went immediately to her.

"He's got a point there," Kennoe said, smirking. "Nubs spent ten sweeps wiggling his way into our pushers. He knows we aren't going to be able to kill him. And I'm betting if he goes, Meulin and Porrim are going with him."

Porrim frowned, but nodded once. Meulin only looked to Kankri and smiled.

"More of you could come, if you wished," Kankri said, once again looking around. "There's safety in numbers."

Once again, no one could meet his eyes.

"Do what you have to do, nubs," Kennoe said. "But don't ask the rest of us to commit suicide with you."

*

That same night Kankri, Meulin, and Porrim prepared to depart. Porrim vanished into their tent to work on some unknown task while Kankri and Meulin discussed where they would go first. Meulin drew a map in the dirt and while they debated over what path to take, Mituna approached them.

"Hey," he said, "I'm going with you assholes."

Somehow, Kankri wasn't surprised. In fact, he laughed. "We'd be happy to have you."

"This place isn't all that bad," Mituna said, looking over his shoulder at the rest of the camp. "But I'd rather not get eaten alive out in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. So I'll take my chances with the drones. And the threshecutioners. And the cavalreapers. And the subbjuglators. And the-"

"We get it. Well, at least I proved my point," Kankri said. "Trolls can live and work together in harmony, regardless of their blood color."

Mituna nodded slowly. "So. Where the hell are we going?"

"That's what we're trying to decide," Kankri said, gesturing to the map drawn in the dirt.

The psionic knelt down beside them and frowned. He stuided it briefly, before pointing to a city marked by a pebble. "I don't know what the hell you mean to accomplish, but Bastan is probably the best place to start. The city has gone to the barkbeasts, and none of the highbloods seem to give two shits what anyone does. So we might not get cut in half by drones there. If we're lucky."

"Sounds perfect," Meulin said, purring slightly.

"It'll take us six nights at least to reach it," Kankri said. "But it's as good a starting point as any. We'll leave as soon as possible."

Meulin frowned slightly. "We'll need food for the journey. And water."

"I could ask if we can take supplies for our own journey," Kankri replied, "but I wouldn't hold my breath."

"Why not? The Tribe has plenty," Mituna said, frowning.

"But they won't always. You joined us at a good time," Meulin interjected. "But we starve more than we eat. They'll save whatever they can for when times turn hard again." She looked to Kankri and got to her feet. "I'm going to go hunting. I'll bring back as much as I can."

"I'll go speak to Kennoe. When I'm done, I'll start foraging. Mituna, can you gather some water? We'll need plenty," Kankri said, looking to his friend.

Mituna sighed. "Sure, whatever. What about Porrim? What the fuck is she doing?"

"Not sure, actually," Kankri said, glancing towards the tent. "But she said it's important. So I'm just going to leave her to it. Mother always knows what's best."

"Whatever," Mituna said, getting up.

*

Kankri found Kennoe sitting beside the dying camp fire. He sat down beside her. At first neither of them spoke, but simply stared into the embers. Finally, Kennoe broke the silence. "I still remember the night we found you and Porrim. You were a grub, small enough to be held with one hand. When I first saw you I couldn't believe it. I hadn't seen a grub since I was one myself. And when I got a good look at your coloring, I almost fell down from shock."

He smiled slightly. "Mother said I was a little terror. Bit everyone who held me."

"Except her," she replied. "You...imprinted on her. The way a wriggler does with a lusus. Except much, much earlier...you know, that was quite a gamble you took earlier. Basically asking someone to cut your throat. I hope you won't be doing that sort of thing in the city."

"Something tells me that won't be the most dangerous thing I'll do in the sweeps to come," Kankri replied. He sighed slightly, then glanced at the sickle on his hip. It had been a gift from Kennoe, and one of the only remnats from her days as a threshecutioner. "...I've always wanted to ask. Why did you leave the threshecutioners to become a wildling? Mother said you went nuts and freed a ship full of slaves."

Kennoe laughed. "Well, she's not wrong. I did free about three hundred slaves. I bet that was a pain in the ass to set right again...if they ever did. I'm sure some of them got away. At least, I hope they did...as for why...it's...difficult to explain."

"Attempt it," Kankri said.

She smirked slightly. "Always so persistant, nubs...well. I became a threshecutioner when I was a little younger than you are now. Threshecutioners are about order. Order this, order that. They do everything they can to keep the peace. I barely survived training, so I was given a very simple job: stand guard at slave auctions and keep the peace. Night after night for two sweeps, that's exactly what I did. I didn't mind it at all. I was even saving up to by myself a nice little hivekeeper, to clean and feed my lusus while I worked."

"What changed?" Kankri asked.

"One night I was watching an auction. I don't know if you saw one while you were away, but they keep the poor things in rags, then strip them naked and put them up on a stage. Then a troll stands by and talks them up to keep the bidding going. Highest bidder wins," Kennoe explained, frowning slightly. "That night I watched them shove this lowblood up in front of everyone. The look he had in his eyes...it was so hollow. Like he was already dead. In the middle of the bidding he lunged at the auctioneer, grabbed the knife off his belt, and stabbed himself with it. He didn't die right away, but he was bleeding out quickly. I ran up to finish him off, and he just looked at me and smiled. And then he spoke to me..."

Kankri waited for Kennoe to continue. The story had made her unusually somber. She was not smirking or laughing or joking. It seemed wrong to speak to her in such a state, so Kankri said nothing.

She took a breath, then continued: "He said to me, 'I'm finally free. You can't put chains on a dead troll. I'm free'. And then his master, who was furious that he'd been cheated, ran up and killed him himself. Kept kicking the body over and over, but that slave was still smiling. After that...something inside of me changed. It was like I had been awakened from a dream. I saw every slave around me, and I can still see each and every one of their faces...so hopeless, so completely hollow...then one night I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't want to be a threshecutioner, I didn't want to be anything. So when a ship full of slaves came in, I killed the captain and the guards and let them all loose. Then I ran until I collapsed. When I woke up, Kiroph and Jupaza were arguing over whether or not to kill me."

"Something similar happened to me when I met Mituna," Kankri said, setting a hand on her shoulder. "I know exactly what you mean, and I know plenty others do too. We're not the only ones who opened our eyes."

"You have no idea how much I want to believe that, nubs," Kennoe sighed. She stood up and sighed. "You know where to find us, if you decide you want to come back. We'll always have a place for you."

Kankri nodded. "I know...I don't suppose you'd let us take some supplies with us when we go."

"Not on your life, nubs," Kennoe said, smirking slightly. "You know we can't afford to just give stuff away, even when we have plenty. We won't always."

He chuckled and stood as well. "I figured as much. I better get to gathering as soon as the sun sets tomorrow. We'll need plenty of food."

"Good luck." Kennoe chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Get some rest. You've got a bunch of shit to do and not a lot of time to do it."

Kankri smiled and began to walk back towards his tent, smoothing his hair down as he went.

"Oh, and nubs?" Kennoe called.

He turned around, looking at her questioningly.

"If you come back, you owe me a cake," Kennoe said.

They both laughed.


	19. First Impressions

Four nights after Kankri's announcement, their small group was ready to head for the city. The night of their departure, Porrim pulled the three young trolls away from their final preparations to show them what she had been working on.

"If we're going into the city, we can't go in looking like wildlings," she said, handing each one of them a package wrapped in large purple leaves. "We have to blend in, at least to some degree."

"Is this what you have been working so hard on?" Kankri asked, a bemused smile passing across his face.

Porrim smiled. "Just open them."

They opened the packages, each one finding a different outfit. For Meulin there was a black and olive green striped dress and leggings. Mituna had given up his suit when he reached the Tribe in exchange for the typical rags that most of them wore. Little did he know that Porrim had kept it and restored it, making it as bright and yellow as the day he got it. And for Kankri there was a large black cloak and pants. The stitching on both was a bright candy red. It was just enough to be seen, but not enough to be too incredibly obvious.

"No shirt?" Kankri asked, chuckling.

"I ran out of material," Porrim said with a slight shrug.

"Perhaps because the cloak is so huge. I might get lost in this thing!" Kankri said with a smile.

"If you don't like it, go naked for all I care," Porrim said, fighting to keep herself from laughing.

Kankri grinned and kissed her cheek. "I'm kidding, Mother. Thank you. I'll be the best dressed feral troll any of them have ever seen."

"You'll be the second best dressed feral troll any of them have ever seen." Meulin corrected him with a teasing smile. "Just look at what Porrim made me! It's perfect! Thank you so so _so_ much!"

Porrim chuckled as Meulin practically pounced on her, and embraced her tightly. "I'm glad you like it, Meulin."

Mituna, meanwhile, stood to the side and stared at his suit in his hands. While Kankri and Meulin showered thanks and praise upon their elder, he had no idea how to react. After a few long awkward minutes, he grumbled a small thank you and went to go change. He had only been wearing rags for a few nights or so, and he hated it.

After watching him go, Kankri turned back towards his custodian. "So...what will you wear?"

"I kept the dress I was wearing the night I found you," Porrim said, smiling slightly. "It's a little frayed, but it's held up well over the sweeps. I'm sure it'll suffice."

"I really do appreciate this, Mother," Kankri said. "After all, first impressions are everything."

*

The Tribe stared at them as they silently as they prepared to leave. Kankri shouldered his pack and glanced around at all the familiar faces. These trolls had been a part of his life from the beginning, and it pained him to leave them now. And though Kennoe said there would always be a place for him, he had doubts. Even if they welcomed him back, would he still be the same troll? Would any of them? The silence was deafening. They simply watched. No one spoke, no one said anything.

Porrim, Meulin, and Mituna looked to him. He was the one who had initiated this journey to nowhere; it only made sense that he lead them. Kankri smiled slightly at them. "...I suppose it's time."

"Kankri, wait," Kennoe said, stepping forward suddenly. She held out her hand. "I need my sickle back."

He turned around, slightly surprised. For sweeps her sickle had been his. After a while he had grown used to the weight on his hip, and it felt familiar in his hand. But if she wanted it back, he would not bar her from it. Without a word, Kankri handed it to her. She shoved a different sickle into his hands. It was also a thresher's sickle, and he realized it must have been the one she'd kept for herself. But the handle had been stained black instead of teal. Her symbol was now covered with a piece of candy red fabric.

"That's yours now," she said. "It suits you better."

A small smile passed over his face, and he tied it to the usual spot on his belt. "Thank you, Kennoe."

"Go raise hell, nubs," she said.

"I'll try my best," Kankri replied. He turned back to his companions. With that he led them down the path, away from the camp, and away from his peaceful life. It was another chapter closed in his twisted existence. Part of him, the more Alternian part of him perhaps, wanted nothing more to turn back and remain in safety. Survival was the ultimate goal. Everything the Tribe did was for the sake of simply staying alive. But his other half, his Beforan half, had to remind him that he didn't want to survive. He had a life before, on another world in a different time, but he had yet to experience true freedom. He was still confined by the caste system. Benevolent chains were still chains. The only solution was to break them completely.

And, in that moment, Kankri truly believed he could.

*

Several nights later, the Signless arrived in Bastan.

The city was just as bad as Mituna described it. It was worse than the one Kankri had settled in for over a half a sweep, if only because of the complete lack of order. The highbloods who were meant to keep order – as the caste system demanded – had cast aside their 'responsibilities' in favor of their own self interest. They stole, they killed, they raped. The lowblood and midbloods were just as bad. They were horrifyingly poor and extremely aggressive towards one another. It was as though the city were a diseased body. The virus had corrupted it so completely that its own cells were attacking one another.

For a time, they did nothing but observe. They would go into the city and explore. Then, around the same time the drones would begin making their rounds, they would retreat to their camp outside their city. Once again, Kankri did not escape notice. After showing up in the city about ten nights in a row, he began to hear the whispers. Signless, Signless, Signless. And this time they had his companions to speak of as well. They, however, didn't get a name like his. Not yet, at least. It was amazing how quickly the city, which was so diseased and chaotic, had still managed to identify and target the outsiders.

On the twelfth night, Kankri spotted a group of starving trolls. They huddled together like a flock of feathered creatures. Their bony shoulders were hunched over, their hollow eyes watched people pass without really seeing them. Their bodies were devouring themselves, and they had given in. They would accept their fate.

Kankri, suddenly reminded of the small starving girl he had helped sweeps ago, felt a rush of pity for them. He approached the group silently. Porrim, Mituna, and Meulin followed right behind him, trusting him but staring at the group apprehensively.

"Do you want food?" he asked, kneeling down before them.

At the word 'food', their hollow eyes snapped towards him. Some frowned at him. Some looked as though the mere mention of the word was enough to make them drool.

"We have a camp to the south just outside the city only a kilometer east of the river," Kankri said. "Come to us tomorrow, and we'll feed you."

None of them spoke as he got back to his feet. But he could feel their eyes burning into his back as he walked away.

"How will we feed them?" Porrim asked once they were out of earshot.

"We'll find a way," Kankri assured her. "We can't let them go hungry. We'll gather up as much as we can, and hopefully we'll have enough. Mituna?" He turned towards his friend, who raised his eyebrows slightly. "Do you still have your pay from your last night in the city?"

Mituna nodded slowly. "Uh, yeah? I mean. There wasn't much opportunity to use it in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere."

"Go out and buy as many grubloaves as you can," Kankri said.

"It won't be a much but whatever." Mituna shrugged.

"We won't need much," Kankri said.

As Mituna walked off, Kankri turned to Meulin. She smiled brightly at him and nodded as though she already knew what he was going to ask. "I'll go see what I can find; I'm sure there's a beast or two prowling around outside the city."

They shared a brief kiss, and she rushed off to hunt. Kankri then turned to his mother. "And that leaves you and I to foraging."

Porrim sighed. "You realize this is ridiculous; these trolls are nothing to us. You aren't obligated to help them. Yet here you are trying to scrounge up a small a feast for them. They'd probably just as soon kill us and take the food."

"I know," Kankri said. "But don't you wish someone had shown us the same kindness when we were starving? You have to treat others the way you would like to be treated; then, when you need their help, they will come to you as you came to them."

She looked at him for a moment, then smiled slightly. "You know, insane or not, I'm proud of you. You're wise for someone so young."

"You taught me everything I know," Kankri said with a grin. "Come; we've got a lot of work ahead of us."

*

There weren't any edible plants on the outskirts of the city. Though they both looked high and low, they couldn't find anything worthwhile. Kankri found himself praying that Meulin managed to get a good kill. If she didn't, they would have nothing for themselves or their handful of guests.

At one point, Kankri thought they'd had a lucky break. As he walked up a small hill he noticed a familiar fruit-bearing tree up ahead. Suddenly excited, he rushed forward. They had plenty of those trees near their second summer camp, and they provided a delicious dark purple fruit. But when he reached the tree there was no fruit to be seen; the tree wasn't in season.

"Damn it!" Kankri snarled. He slammed his fist against the tree with a growl. "I hope no one ever eats from you again, you piece of-"

"Kankri," Porrim said, walking up behind him. "Cursing the tree won't do anything to help our situation."

He frowned and turned away reluctantly, as though he were still intent on punishing the tree for its sin of being out of season. "You're right, you're right. Let's just keep looking."

So they continued on. When it became clear that they were simply wasting time and energy, they decided to just head back to camp. Mituna was waiting for them with five grubloaves, which was all his money could buy. Meulin returned near sunrise with her head hung low. There was no hunting to be had. She gone to the river where she managed to catch two fish, but otherwise she had nothing to show.

"I'm sorry," she said mournfully. "It's all I could find."

"It's alright, love," Kankri assured her. "We'll make this work; there won't be many trolls. This should be enough for us and them."

"And if it's not?" Mituna asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We'll make it work," Kankri replied.

They cooked the fish and stored them away with the grubloaves. The next evening Kankri awoke early and began to prepare for their guests. He thought of all the things that could go wrong. The authorities might show up instead, or someone could send out a drone. Or the trolls might become unruly and attack them. Kankri frowned and looked up at the moons. He could do nothing but hope the night would go well.

He turned around to face the city. His eyes widened.

"Oh my _God_..."

All he could see were trolls. Thousands of them. They were moving towards the camp, trickling out of city and coming towards the camp. He stared out at a sea of walking skeletons with bobbing orange horns. In a mere twenty-four hours, word had spread that someone was handing out free food. Out of all the things he had feared, Kankri could not have imagined this would happen. "Meulin! Mituna! Mother! Wake up, wake up!"

They crawled out of the tents, blinking sleepily and rubbing their eyes. He pointed to the massive group coming towards them.

"Shit!" Mituna yelled.

"Why are there so many?" Meulin asked, looking frantically between Kankri and the starving army advancing towards them.

"When someone is giving out free food, word gets around," Porrim said with a frown. Then she added grimly: "They're going to kill us."

Mituna smacked Kankri on the back of his head. "Way to go, asshole! We're about to get eaten alive by four thousand angry trolls!"

His friend winced and rubbed the back of his head. "Actually it looks more like five thousand-"

"Do you want to do a headcount?!" Mituna snapped.

"Ok, ok! Calm down! We'll figure this out," Kankri said, looking back towards the multitude. He frowned and looked towards the basket where their food was stored. Two fish and five grubloaves. Two fish and five grubloaves for five thousand people. It wouldn't feed even a small percentage of them. But they had little choice. They were promised food, and they would give them all they had.

The first few trolls were beginning to arrive at the camp. Kankri felt a rush of pity for them almost immediately. They were trolls of all ages, young and old. Some of the smaller ones rode on the backs of lusii or walked and held on to them. There were trolls with gray-streaked hair and trolls in the prime of their life but not in prime health. Their arms was skinny, their cheekbones pronounced, their eyes huge glowing orbs. If only he did have enough food for all of them. When they came close to the fire, he asked them to sit. They did. So long as he had food, they would listen.

The other trolls followed their lead. As they walked up to the camp they seated themselves on their bony knees or crossed their twig-like legs. It was strangely silent, save for the bellows and roars of the lusii in the crowd. They seemed to just keep coming and coming. Feet shuffled, clothing rustled. But the night was still and quiet.

Finally, they all seemed to be settled. Ten thousand eyes stared at Kankri from all sides. They were waiting for him to say something, or do something.

"...there's a few more of you than I expected," Kankri said, trying to project his voice so that as many people could hear as possible. He tried to smile. "We don't have much food, but we'll attempt to make it last."

He gestured for the basket, which Meulin readily brought. The sight of the five pitiful loaves and the two fish made his heart sink. Kankri wanted to put off the actual food-giving for as long as possible, so he began to talk.

"But first, let us give thanks," Kankri said, looking back to the crowd. "Let's give thanks for this food, and for the good company in which we consume it. Please be patient and generous with your neighbor, as they're just as hungry as you. Remember that you are all part of the same lot, the same group. They are you, and you are them. Treat them as you would want to be treated. Do not take their food, do not fight with them. Ignore their blood, their caste, their gender, their appearance. For when you take those things away, they are just like you. They are hungry, they are scared. They aren't your enemies."

When he finished speaking, a murmur went through the crowd. Kankri nodded to Meulin, who began to pass out the food. She encouraged everyone to take some and pass. They did so quietly, taking a bite and then handing it to their neighbor. Kankri expected the food to run out in less than ten minutes, but an hour later he still saw food moving among the crowd. He walked among the people, speaking to them, hearing a million stories that were all different but all the same. They had been left behind by society. There were waiting to die. As he listened and spoke and learned, he kept an eye on the food as it passed through the multitude.

Three hours later, they were still eating.

Kankri and his companions were flummoxed. Had some of them somehow brought their own food? If they had, why come at all? Eventually Mituna took the basket they had stored the food in and began to walk around to see what was going on. He returned not long after with a completely baffled look on his face.

"What is it?" Kankri asked, moving to greet him as he returned.

"...there are _leftovers_ ," Mituna said, tilting the basket so he could see. There were pieces of grubloaf inside, as well as pieces of fish.

"That can't be right," he said. "Not everyone must have eaten. It's not possible..."

Meulin took the basket from Mituna. "I'll go see who didn't eat."

She disappeared into the crowd, and returned a couple hours later looking just as confused as Mituna had. She set down the basket and simply stared blankly into it. "They're all full. They said they've all eaten and they're full."

"What?" Kankri asked. "How is that possible?"

"It's not," Meulin said. She stared at him with a curious look in her eyes. "What's going on here?"

"I don't..." Kankri sighed and looked out at the crowd. Now that they had eaten, they seemed to have more energy. Trolls were talking with the people beside them. There was laughter in the air. They were all full for the first time in perigees, and it didn't make any sense. How was it possible? That much food wouldn't satisfy the four of them, much less five thousand trolls. Then, as he looked out over the sea of heads, he saw something. A figure hovering above the crowd. Suddenly they were gone, and he saw nothing but horns and hair. "...Damara..."

Meulin set a hand on his arm. "Damara? Did she somehow...?"

"She must have," Kankri said quietly. "But _how_ -"

They were interrupted by a small group of trolls who had come up to thank them for the food. Others soon joined them. Some took Kankri's hands and shook them, or kissed them. Some people threw their arms around him in a hug. It made Mituna and Porrim nervous, but Kankri and Meulin embraced it. They spoke with the people, and were still talking and laughing with them when the sun began to rise.


	20. Forgiveness

Many of the people remained around the camp. Others came to join them, as word spread quickly about the miraculous troll that could feed five thousand with food that would barely serve five. Their camp was soon in the center of a huge settlement. They pitched their own tents and started their own fires, and it looked as though the slums had moved from Bastan and relocated a kilometer away from the city. 

Since he had no idea how the trick had been done, or if it could be replicated at all, Kankri set about teaching them to provide for themselves. Each night he would take out large parties and show them how to forage. Meulin did the same with hunting. She and Porrim also taught them how to make traps, fish nets, and weapons of their own. As the seasons changed the land became far more bountiful. The sight of foraging and hunting parties departing and returning over the hills soon was a nightly occurrence. And, each and every night, people flocked to the main camp to see Kankri. 

They often came for food, but many came simply to catch a glimpse of the troll without a sign. They asked him all sorts of questions about the matter. And while he told many that his name was in fact Kankri Vantas, they all still referred to him as the Signless.

One night the crowd and noise became too great, he slipped away with Meulin for some peace and quiet. Together they walked over the hills and looked out at the city lights. 

“We must have every lowblood in Bastan in our camp,” Meulin said, clasping his hand in hers. 

“We must,” he agreed, chuckling. “It's a bit jarring. There's so many of them...it reminds me of when we went through Metrollpolis all those sweeps ago. Do you remember how overwhelmed we were? I didn't think there were that many trolls on Alternia, much less in one city.”

Meulin laughed a bit. “I kind of like it. There are so many people to talk to. It's not like in the Tribe where everyone's known everyone since forever. Here you can just pick a direction and meet someone new. It's nice.”

“Just so long as you don't find someone to replace me,” Kankri said teasingly. 

“Me? Replace you? It'd probably be the other way around. All anyone wants to do is see the mysterious Signless,” Meulin replied, bumping her shoulder against his playfully. “I heard Porrim telling Mituna that you'll get your quadrants filled in no time with all these people clamoring after you.”

He stopped in his tracks and stared at her. “Really? She said that?”

“Yeah.” Meulin tilted her head to one side. “Why?”

“I just...well, I'd never thought about that before. The whole...filling my quadrants thing,” Kankri said, gesturing vaguely towards the camp behind them. “Everyone else in the Tribe had known me since I was a grub; it would have been strange being in a relationship with any of them. At first I thought it'd be strange to be in a relationship with you, but I...warmed up to the idea.”

She smiled, taking his hand again. “I understand that.”

“And to be honest?” Kankri set his free hand on her cheek. “I don't want to. I don't want a kismesis or a moirail or anything else. I just want you.”

Meulin stared at him in shock. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, nodding once. “You're all I need.”

Suddenly, Meulin threw her arms around him with such force they both fell over. Before Kankri could do or say anything, she planted a kiss on his lips and curled her hands in his hair. He returned the gesture eagerly, wrapping his arms around her waist. For a while they simply laid there together. Then Meulin purred and rested her head on his chest. “If you keep talking like that, I'll have to rip those pants right off you.”

Kankri laughed, running his hand through her long curly hair. “I don't know if I'd be able to explain that to Mother.”

“I'll tell her, don't worry,” Meulin purred, grinning deviously.

He laughed and rolled them over so that he was on top of her. “What would you tell her, exactly?”

“The truth,” she replied. 

They both chuckled. Kankri kissed her again, illiciting purrs from both of them. It was nice to simply lay tangled in each other's arms. Ever since they fed the multitude, they'd spent little time together. They were busy teaching the impoverished trolls of Bastan how to live off the land. Now that they had a moment to spend with each other, they realized exactly how much they had missed being together. 

“We should go back to the camp,” he said quietly. 

“We should,” she agreed. 

They didn't return to camp until late in the evening, when the sun began to rise.

*

The next night a group of trolls came to see Kankri in camp. It was not unusual, as people often came to see him. But this group was unusual for one reason: they had a sick troll with them. They dragged her by her arms, as she was too weak to stand on her own. There were lesions covering her body. Entire patches of skin were white instead of gray. She was covered in sores, some of the sores were leaking and bleeding. One of her legs had been completely engulfed, and her foot looked deformed and twisted. There were blisters on her face and arms, and she appeared feverish. It was like nothing Kankri had ever seen.

“Signless, she won't leave the camp!” spat one of the trolls. They threw her down at his feet. The troll said nothing. She simply seemed to crumble into herself. “She'll infect us all!”

For a moment Kankri simply stared at them. Then he diverted his attention to the sick troll. Her illness was an enigma to him, and it was apparently catching. Kankri knelt down beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “What is your name?”

“Leprae,” she said quietly. 

“We found her crouching next to our fire,” said another troll, sneering. “She's got the Patch Pox. We told her to leave, but she just sat by the fire like a statue.” 

“And you want _me_ to make her leave?” Kankri asked, looking up at them.

They nodded solemnly. Leprae looked up at him with pleading brown eyes. He imagined he looked much the same when he had fallen ill as a youngling. They wanted him to turn her out, or perhaps put her out of her misery. Surely that's what would have happened to him had he not grown up amongst unusually kind trolls. 

“I won't,” Kankri said. He clasped Leprae's pox marked hands and helped her to her feet. She had to lean heavily on him, and her skin was on fire with fever. “What if you were in her position? She never asked to get sick, it's not something she can be blamed for. I fell ill once, and the only reason I'm alive tonight is because someone was kind enough to help me. What kind of person would I be if I cast her out?”

“But she's a patcher!” one of the trolls protested. “She'll get others sick!”

“No, she won't,” Kankri said. He turned his attention to Leprae, who seemed awe-struck. “You'll have your own tent where you can recover. I'll make sure someone tends to you until you're well.”

At this point Porrim stepped in. She was immune to most (if not all) diseases due to her status as a rainbow drinker. It would be more sensible for her to care for this troll rather than her son, who was still very susceptible to illness. “I'll take it from here, Kanny; I'll have Meulin set up a tent for her.”

“You're too kind,” Leprae said, looking between Kankri and Porrim. “You don't even know me.”

“I don't need to in order to show basic kindness,” Kankri said. He looked pointedly towards the trolls who had brought her to him. They looked down as though they were being scolded by their custodians. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. Why do you want to punish people for things beyond their control? It's the same as a highblood beating you for simply being a lowblood. It's not something you choose; if we could control our bodies to that degree, no one would ever get sick, we'd all be sea-dwellers, and my horns wouldn't be this nubby. Try treating people with a bit more compassion, or else you'll find no one there when you are in her position.”

When he finished speaking he found that everyone had grown silent. All the trolls within earshot had stopped what they were doing to listen to him. Multiple pairs of eyes were locked on him. The trolls before him looked ashamed. 

“...we are sorry, Signless,” one of them said quietly. 

“I...” Kankri continued to look around. It suddenly dawned on him that these people were beginning to look to him as a _leader_. They brought Leprae to his camp so he could deal with her. They looked like ashamed wrigglers when he scolded them for their lack of sympathy. And when he spoke, everyone stopped to listen. 

In his previous life, he'd tried to be a leader and failed miserably. (Perhaps because he was an insufferable prat.) Yet now he seemed to have stumbled into the position completely by accident. The thought was slightly terrifying. All of these people were looking to him, expecting him to guide them in the correct direction. But he could hardly run from it. Word was already spreading about the so-called 'miracle'. People were beginning to seek him out from other cities. 

The best thing he could do was lead these people on the right path. The path of compassion and equality. And the path of forgiveness.

“Apologize to Leprae, when she is well,” Kankri said. “You have done nothing to injure me. I'm just disappointed.”

“We'll apologize,” said the trolls eagerly.

“When she's well,” he reminded them. “For now, she needs to rest. With any luck she'll recover soon.”

*

Three nights later, Kankri and Mituna sat next to their fire preparing for supper. Between them, Kankri and Meulin had gathered up a suitable dinner. As was now the usual, other trolls flocked to their camp for supper. While Kankri gutted a fish, a young troll called Aoihnn sat at his side and watched him, questioning him about the process.

“What are you doing now?” asked the little one.

“I'm taking out the guts,” Kankri said, smiling slightly. “Want to see?” 

Aoihnn squealed and drew back, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Kankri laughed, then winked at the child. While Mituna was not looking, he tossed a piece of the fish's intestines at him. It landed right on his friend's shoulder. 

“FUCK!” he yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. He knocked it off, then turned around to glare at Kankri. His friend was busy laughing uproariously with his new playmate. Suddenly a blast of red and blue energy shot at Kankri, a blast he scarely avoided. The laughter, however, did not die down. Kankri held his sides. The child was practically crying he was giggling so hard. Mituna snorted. “Laugh it up, assholes.”

“We will!” Kankri said, winking at the little one. 

“Kankri, dear, how old are you?” Porrim called. She was sitting beside her tent, attempting to stitch up the child's gloves for him. 

“Oh, ten sweeps or so,” he said, grinning sheepishly.

“I suggest you act your age then,” she said, glancing up from her work to smile at him. She looked to Aoihnn. “As for you, little one, don't let him be a bad influence on you. Here are your gloves, dear; and you're welcome to stay if you need a meal.”

The child took his gloves and slipped them on, admiring the craftsmanship. “Thank you, lady.”

“You're welcome,” she said, smiling and ruffling his hair. 

Kankri smiled. Seeing his custodian with another little one brought back memories of when he was a youngling himself. It seemed so long ago, yet it also felt that his childhood had passed by in the blink of an eye. Time was strange like that; he supposed the rest of his life would pass by just as quickly. 

He looked back down at his work, removing the rest of the organs from the fish. As he set about taking off the scales, a cry went out in the camp. When he looked up, he saw trolls rushing towards him. They looked panicked. Meulin, who had been resting by the fire, jumped to her feet with a growl. Mituna and Porrim both watched the group approach, their brows furrowing.

“Signless!” one of the trolls cried. “Threshers- they're in the camp-”

Porrim hissed. “It was only a matter of time.”

Kankri got to his feet, setting his work aside. The fish could wait. A situation with the authorities could very well result in a riot, and that was the last thing they needed. “Take me to them, please.”

The trolls led him back through the camp. Mituna walked beside him, eyes narrowed. Meulin and Porrim were not far behind. Trolls were withdrawing into their tents and shelters. They watched them pass with scared, yet hopeful eyes. Kankri wondered how many threshecutioners had shown up. Surely, if it came to combat, they could overwhelm them...but he didn't want it to come to that. Then the hammer would only come down harder. It wouldn't be a handful of threshecutioners then, it would be an army of cavalreapers or even subjugglators. These people were not hardened criminals or warriors. They were hungry, desolate, and poor. They longed for nothing more than warmth and a full belly. Kankri didn't want to involve them in any sort of struggle.

“This way, this way!” the trolls said, leading them along. The threshecutioners came into view. Kankri counted twelve of them. They'd already trampled five or six tents. The the other trolls were backing away from them, like a group of skittish antlerbeasts preparing for a panicked stampede.

“What is the problem here?” Kankri asked, his voice far more confident than he felt. 

The threshecutioners looked to him. “Are you the leader of this rabble?” 

“These people look to me for guidance,” Kankri admitted freely. The trolls had moved back and were now standing behind their group, as though the four of them could protect them from all the dangers of Alternia. “I try to provide it when I am able.”

One of the officers advanced threateningly, his sickle in hand. Kankri's hand went to his hip. He did not draw his weapon, but he was prepared in case the situation turned violent. But as soon as he got a good look at the troll, his grip slackened. The officer was a blue blood. He had long shaggy black hair and horns that sloped over the top of his head. His blue eyes narrowed. 

“Dismiss this group at once,” he said. 

“There are no crimes being committed here,” Kankri said, strangely calm all of a sudden. He stared up at the troll, and was certain that he was the same one. The night of the fire came rushing back to him. He could smell the smoke and see the blazing forest. Even the burn scar on his forearm, his only reminder of that night, seemed to ache. 

“They have left their stations,” the thresher said. “They have gathered here, when they should be in the city-”

“Why does it matter where they starve?” Kankri asked, arching an eyebrow. 

“Inside the city, they're registered gutter-bloods. Outside the city, they're living in an unregistered area without approval and are therefore considered feral,” he said. “You will tell them to return to the city, or there will be consequences.”

Kankri frowned and pushed his hood back. The threshecutioner froze. He wasn't sure what exactly had startled him. Did he recognize him? Or was he simply shocked by Kankri's burning red eyes? “As I recall, you have been merciful to ferals in the past. But these people are hardly wildlings, and we both know that very well. You have been commanded to take them back because it makes you nervous having lowbloods where you can't watch them. They're out of your control, and that scares you.”

The threshecutioner offered no answer. He simply stared at Kankri in complete shock. “You're that youngling...how did you...”

So he did recognize him. “I made my way back to my people.”

“They survived?” he asked, his voice tight.

“Some. But you won't be able to find them,” Kankri replied with a slight shrug. He remembered running up to the to camp with Meulin at his side, only to find that about half the tents were missing. They'd lost so many people in the fire that night. Some of them possibly even fell to this troll's sickle. But Kankri couldn't bring himself to be angry. It had been sweeps ago. The ashes of his fallen friends were long cold. It was time to take the path of forgiveness. He offered his hand, looking towards him. “Putting that aside, I need to thank you.”

He knew all of his companions were staring at him as though he were insane. Kankri had never told anyone about being spared by a thresher when their camp burned. Even Meulin didn't know. 

“You spared me, and I owe you my life,” Kankri said. 

The threshecutioner stared at his hand. “You're thanking me?”

“Why wouldn't I? You could have just as easily killed me,” Kankri said, withdrawing his hand. “But you let me live. Why?”

“You were a defenseless youngling,” the threshecutioner said. “It is not so now. Tell them to disband and go back to their place in the city. And you- you _ferals_ \- will go back to the woods you crawled out of.” 

“So you can track us back to the others and finish us all off?” Porrim ventured quietly, growling underneath her breath. 

“We will leave,” Kankri said quickly, attempting to cover up his custodian's remark. If the threshers attacked they would defend themselves. And regardless of the result, it would all go downhill from there. “I will advise the others it would be best to return to their hives in the city. But I cannot force them. They'll do what they wish.”


	21. Sermon on the Mount

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny how the shortest chapters can be the most important.

A panic overtook many in the camp. A thousand trolls fled swiftly back to their city, later to be dubbed the Unfaithful Thousand by those who stayed to witness the great event that would come next. The trolls who remained clamored towards Kankri, four thousand voices shrieking as one to ask where they should go and what they should do. Yet in spite of this, he remained calm. Onlookers noticed that his back was straight, his head was held high, his fiery eyes were calm. 

Kankri looked out at the panicked crowd, then looked to the three people he loved most. “Do you trust me?”

“Duh,” Meulin said at once.

“Of course we do, Kankri,” Porrim said.

“Sure,” Mituna answered with a shrug.

“Good,” he said, “because I'm about to do something crazy.” He attempted to calm the crowd, but to no avail. Finally Mituna stepped forward and shouted, “SHUT THE FUCK UP” as loudly as he could. A hush fell over them, and Mituna took a step back behind Kankri.

Kankri looked at them, then turned and began to head north. “Follow me.”

Meulin hurried to his side and clasped his hand, while Porrim and Mituna fell into step behind them. They left behind the camp entirely, heading north towards a small mount. When Kankri glanced back he saw that the four thousand remaining trolls had begun to quietly follow. After half an hour of walking, Kankri climbed atop a rock so that he could be more easily seen. Meulin, Porrim, and Mituna seated themselves at his feet. They were just as confused as the rest of the crowd, but they were hopeful that Kankri knew what he was doing.

“My friends,” Kankri said, speaking as loudly as he was able, “my brothers and sisters...I'm sure you all know by now what has happened. Threshecutioners have ordered us to disband, or pay with our lives.”

A cry went up somewhere in the multitude, and they were joined by a chorus of panicked yells. Kankri held up his hands, and they went silent. That surprised him. He knew they looked to him as a leader, but he had never thought to test the extent of his authority. “Do you know why they want us to disband? They claim it is because, as we are living in an unregistered area, we are technically living as ferals. Now that, my friends, is highly illegal. Living as a feral is an offense punishable by death. And here are several thousand of us, sitting pretty and waiting for them. But they sent a mere twelve threshers. Twelve threshers versus _thousands_ of 'ferals'. Where is the logic in that?”

A murmur went up among the crowd as people discussed this. Kankri swallowed. His throat was already getting dry, and he had so much more to say.

“There isn't any,” he continued. “But they believed twelve highbloods would be enough. After all, lowbloods outnumber highbloods a million to one. Yet we still submit to them. We still fear them. We are greater in number and in strength than they could ever dream to be, yet _they_ rule _us_. They rule us because we fear them. They knew that twelve bluebloods would be enough to strike terror into the hearts of thousands, and they knew that it would be enough to make us scatter. They don't want us to disband because we're ferals...no, they want us to disband because we're becoming a community. We're showing each other how to hunt and forage. We're treating each other's ailments. We're making friends, sharing fires, laughing together. And they're afraid of that.”

God was his mouth dry. 

“They're afraid of lowbloods banding together. Because then we might realize that we outnumber them,” Kankri said, continued. His mouth felt like the desert. “While we starve in the streets, they have feasts. While we die of disease and infection, they get secret treatment from doctors. While we get culled for anything and everything, they rarely have to face the drones. Why? Because they're highbloods, and we aren't. But it doesn't have to be this way. They would have you think this is the way it should be. The way it always has been, the way it always will be. But they're wrong. Trolls of all colors and hues can live together as equals. I've seen it with my own eyes.”

“Yeah right!” someone shouted. “Where?!”

“In the wild,” he answered swiftly. “I was raised in a group of ferals, amongst highbloods, midbloods, and lowbloods. We lived quietly, and we lived peacefully. Everyone had their place, and it was never above someone else.”

“LIAR!” someone else shouted.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Mituna shouted back, getting to his feet. “This asshole knows what the fuck he's talking about. He saved my sorry ass and dragged me back into the wild. I'm from the city, and I thought he was fucking crazy. Going on about equality and wildlings and visions and shit. But he wasn't crazy- ok strike that obvioulsy he is or we wouldn't fucking be here. But he's not a fucking liar.”

With that Mituna sat down. The others stared at him in silent awe. Kankri smiled at him. He had found a loyal friend that night in the city, and never before had it been more clear. 

“...visions?” someone in the crowd repeated. “He said you have visions!”

“I...” Shit. He'd told Mituna a bit about the visions that plagued him, just in case one should sneak up upon him while they traveled together. (So far, he had been vision free since remembering everything. Perhaps now that he knew the truth, the universe didn't feel the need to shove it in his face once every night.) He hadn't planned on telling a crowd of strangers about this, but then again he hadn't really planned any of this. It just simply happened. “As a wriggler, I was plagued by fainting spells. Each night without fail, I would freeze and collapse where I stood. And when I collapsed, I saw something amazing. I saw trolls of all blood colors working together. I saw a peaceful world, where trolls didn't have to fear drones or threshecutioners or subugglators. I saw what we could become.”

Thousands of eyes stared back at him, captivated. They seemed even more interested than before. His confidence renewed, he continued.

“I see what we could be each time I look around the camp. I see friendship, I see laughter, I see happiness, I see hope, I see _love_. I see a world where our descendants will not be bound in chains forged by an archaic caste system. I see a world where they will be treated as people and not a color. I see a world where our descendants can live without fear. I see a world where WE can live without fear. But nothing will change if we do not take action. We have to rise up and defend ourselves. We have to show the highbloods that we are not afraid. No longer will we go with bowed heads when they came to enslave us! No longer will we turn our faces away as our brothers and sisters are slaughtered! No longer will we go quietly to our deaths! Tonight we break our chains! Tonight, we are _FREE_!”

A deafening roar arose from the crowd. Kankri took a step back, thinking he had enraged them. Then, moments later, they began to chant. Thousands of voice rose as one, screaming: “SIGNLESS! SIGNLESS! SIGNLESS! SIGNLESS!”

They stamped their feet, they beat the air with their fists. They were an army, and his name was their battle cry.


	22. Highblood

_And as he spoke a great shadow passed over, blocking out the stars and the moons. A monstrous dragon with eyes like red hot suns appeared, a legislacerator astride her. The trolls were afraid, and cried out. But the Signless remained calm and held up his hands. He spoke to the masses in a soothing voice, saying, “Be at peace, brothers and sisters.” And they were._

_The dragon landed, and her rider did nothing but sit among the people. The trolls were once again frightened, but the Signless continued speaking._

The rest of the passage detailed Kankri’s speech from the previous night. It was a long one, taking up at least twelve pages. He flipped through it, if only to wonder at how Meulin managed to write all of this down. 

“Well?” she asked, looking at him expectantly.

“You left out the part where I nearly pissed myself with fear,” Kankri said, grinning slightly.

“It didn’t show,” she said, purring. She leaned her head against his shoulder, entwining her fingers with his. “You were very brave.”

Kankri kissed the top of her head, smiling. “I’m not brave at all. Just good at covering up fear.”

Meulin frowned, pushing him on to his back and straddling him. “You do know you’ve started a revolution, right? The highbloods have been after us for perigees…the Empress herself denounced you as a traitor and a heretic! You’re public enemy number one. But you keep speaking. _That’s_ brave.”

“Someone has to do it,” Kankri said. “Might as well be me.”

She leaned down and planted a kiss on his lips. “You’ve started a fire, and they’ll never put it out. No matter how hard they try.”

Her lover returned the kiss, running his hands through her thick curly hair. “I’d be nothing without you. Or Mother. Or Mituna.”

Meulin chuckled. “That’s true.”

“You’re why I keep going. You’re my everything,” Kankri said, setting a hand on her cheek. Looking into her eyes, no matter how hard things became, always made him feel better. No matter where he went or what he did, Meulin was at his side. “I want to make a new world with you. One where our descendants can live without fear.”

She purred at the word ‘descendants’. “What do you think they’ll be like?”

“Yours will be ferocious,” Kankri said. In the back of his mind, he knew that she’d need that trait to get through the game alive. “But her heart will be pure. Just like you.”

“And yours will be kind,” Meulin replied, kissing him again. “A natural born leader. Gentle but firm as iron.”

Kankri laughed. “Hopefully he’ll keep everyone from screwing up like we did. Our session was a mess, as far as I can remember. Relationship drama and old grudges getting stirred up and magnified…hopefully they won’t have that problem.”

“…what was I like, back then?” Meulin asked suddenly. “When we played the game.”

“Very similar and very different,” Kankri said. “You were a bit of a matchmaker, as I remember…and deaf.”

Meulin quirked her head to the side. “Deaf?”

“I can’t remember the whole story. Something involving your matesprit,” Kankri replied. Not everything had come back to him, it seemed. Just the important things. 

She furrowed her brow. “You mean you weren’t my matesprit?”

“No,” he said.

“That makes _no_ sense.” Meulin kissed him again.

Kankri smiled slightly. “Tell me about it.”

Meulin’s hands started to snake down towards his waist, but before they could get anywhere, Mituna rushed into their tent. They both looked up, and realized something is wrong. Typically if he walked in on them during a ‘romantic’ moment he’d make a bunch of comments before finally leaving them to their business. Now, however, he just looked worried.

“Subjugglators,” he said.

Kankri and Meulin both flew into action. Meulin rolled off him and grabbed her claws, slipping them on to her hands. Kankri reached for his sickle, then rushed out. Their camp was now ten times larger than it had been a sweep ago. A few thousand trolls had turned into a couple of million. They all followed him, flocked to him, listened to him speak. And now they were being attacked. He wouldn’t stand for it. These people had come to him for guidance, and he wouldn’t allow them to be cut down like animals. 

In the distance he could see tents burning. There was screaming and yelling and lusii calling. 

“WRIGGLERS TO THE NORTH!” he yelled. 

His mother was waiting outside, glowing bright like the sun. She nodded once and began to herd the screaming little ones towards the north side of the camp, towards safety. 

Without a word he, Mituna, and Meulin surged forward. His followers were yelling and whooping, rushing to meet the attackers. Violence was never encouraged among their people, and Kankri secretly thought they relished in these battles. It allowed his followers to release some pent-up aggression. They could never instigate an encounter, but they would not back down from a fight once it was started.

They heard a scream and rounded a corner just in time to see a subjugglator smash a troll’s head in with a giant mace. Kankri felt the bile rise up in his throat.

Mituna attacked the troll with his psionics, sending him flying back with one red and blue blast. They kept moving.

What Kankri’s followers lacked in proper military training and weapons, they made up for in sheer numbers. There were seven rebels for each subjugglator, and they used this to their advantage. He saw people moving in small to large groups, comprised of at least three people. To walk alone during a raid meant certain death. But it seemed with each passing night, the highbloods had a new surprise for them.

“DRONE!” Kankri yelled, pulling Meulin and Mituna back. Where they had been a giant red drone landed. All through the camp, they appeared out of the smoke and touched down in front of the rebels. Looking around, Kankri knew there had to be thousands of them. Thousands of subjugglators, thousands of drones. They would still win due to their sheer numbers, but Kankri knew it would be a massacre. Less of a victory and more of a loss. What was worth more? A strike at the Empress or millions of lives?

“RETREAT!” he screamed. 

Mituna and Meulin took up the call. “RETREAT!”

All across the camp, the word spread. “RETREAT! RETREAT! RETREAT!”

They turned and ran towards the north, ducking and weaving away from drones as they did. The highbloods and their metallic minions gave chase. As they ran, they tried to help whoever they came across. Kankri ended up supporting a troll with an injured leg, half dragging her as they rushed to safety. 

When Porrim nearly collided with them, he knew they were in trouble.

She was leading a group of wrigglers. Many of them were orphans, though some carried traits that would slate them for immediate culling if they were discovered. So they went to the Signless, who was said to take in anyone. All of them stared up at him with tearful gray eyes, clutching their weapons and huddling together in fear. 

“The drones have blocked off the exits to the north,” Porrim said. “We have to go south.”

“And face the subjugglators?” Mituna demanded. 

_Can’t go north, can’t go south_ , Kankri thought. “We have to split. Half of us to the east, half of us to the west.”

“Split up?” Mituna looked at him incredulously. “So we can make it easier for them to pick us off?”

“If you have any other ideas I am all ears, Mituna!” Kankri snapped. 

Mituna threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fine, split up! You lead the western group, I’ll lead the eastern.”

“I’ll go with Mituna,” Porrim said. She grabbed Kankri and kissed his forehead. “Please, be safe.”

Her son smiled and squeezed her hands reassuringly. “I’ll be fine, Mother. Now go. Hurry!”

With that Porrim and Mituna bounded off, followed closely by the young trolls and their lusii. Meulin and Kankri went in the opposite direction. Others began to follow them, believing that the Signless would lead them to safety. Kankri hoped that their faith was not misplaced. They weaved through the burning tents, dodging drones, and attacking any subjugglators that came across their path. 

Just when Kankri dared to hope they would make it, a hulking shadow stepped out before them.

At first he thought it was a massive drone. But after a moment he realized it was a troll. He was huge. Tall, muscular, imposing. The Grand Highblood. 

“Where the fuck do you motherfuckers think you’re going?” he growled.

Kankri could only stare up into his eyes. And suddenly he realized that he knew this troll. 

“Kurloz,” he said. 

“The fuck did you call me?” Kurloz demanded, narrowing his eyes at him. “You dare to address me, you heretical mutant mother- _ARGH_!”

Kurloz turned and struck blindly at someone. Kankri saw a large cut on his back, bleeding profusely. The attacker dodged to the side, avoiding Kurloz’s retaliation. In the firelight Kankri saw the glint of black metal off a sinisterly curved weapon. 

“DON’T JUST STAND THERE NUBS!” Kennoe screamed, dancing away from another strike. “RUN!”

Meulin grabbed his arm and pulled him away from Kurloz. More familiar faces surged forward to meet the Grand Highblood: Kiroph, Jupaza, Lacene, and more. All that was left of the Tribe. Kankri had so much he wanted to ask them, but he couldn’t. There were people depending on them. He yelled for the trolls to follow, and they did. 

Kurloz let out an angry cry and swung his club at Kennoe. She let out a yelp and fell to her knees. 

“KENNOE!” Kankri and Kiroph yelled as one. Meulin tugged on Kankri’s arm, preventing him from going back.

“They made a choice!” Meulin hissed in his ear.

Kankri gritted his teeth and turned away. The fighting behind them continued, though he did not see what happened. As they rushed from the burning camp, he thought of what Kennoe had said on the night he announced his departure:

_“Do what you have to, nubs. But don’t ask the rest of us to commit suicide with you.”_

*

“Well?” The Empress demanded, her fuchsia eyes glowering at him through the monitor. “Did you capture him?”

“No, Empress,” Kurloz answered without fear. He might be the only troll on Alternia who didn’t flinch underneath her gaze. And he was quite proud of that. “He and his matesprit escaped our grasp.”

The Empress slammed her fist down on something- a desk, probably. “I’m losing my fuckin’ patience, Makara. I’m tryin’ to be reasonable, but you and your goons are makin’ it real damn difficult.”

“I have a plan,” Kurloz said. He stepped aside, allowing her to view the trolls behind him. They were on their knees with their hands chained behind their backs. All of them had been beaten bloody, and one or two weren’t conscious yet. But that wasn’t a problem. He didn’t need them to be awake and aware; he just needed them alive. The two guests of honor, meanwhile, were on their feet, being held up by two gleeful subjugglators. “We’ve got his friend and his custodian.”

The Empress’s eyes lit up with glee. “Looks like you did _somethin’_ right, Makara. Now, tell me about this plan you got.”

“Very fucking simple,” he said. “Offer them in exchange for him.”

“He won’t come,” the yellow blood hissed. “He’s smarter than that you fucking pieces of shit-”

The subjugglator holding him up threw him to the floor and started kicking him. The jade blood turned her face away, unable to watch.

“The cutie has a point,” the Empress said. “Even if we kill ‘im, that don’t solve the problem. Then he just becomes a martyr.”

“Not if we let the people decide what to do with him,” Kurloz replied.

The Empress paused, considering this. “Let a bunch of blood thirsty angry trolls decide what to do with the traitor…that way instead of comin’ back on _us_ -”

“It’s their own doing,” Kurloz finished.

“Kurloz, you brilliant motherfucker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you thought I forgot about this, huh?

**Author's Note:**

> Just one final note; I'm looking for fan trolls to use in the story. Often they'll probably have brief cameos as members of the feral group, but they might serve other purposes. If you'd like to have yours included, just let me know!


End file.
